A Friend In Need Is A Lover Indeed
by The-Under-Butler-Did-It
Summary: After the events at the Thirsk Fair, Jimmy sees a very different side of Thomas. For the first time he sees him for the lonely and vulnerable man he is. And he finally accepts something about himself too, something he has kept secret and hidden for a long time. Set during S3 Christmas Special. Warning: GRAPHIC MM SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR NOTES:**

This story takes place during the S3 Christmas Special. It begins in the evening after the servants get home from their day out at the Thirsk Country Fair.

I've always loved Mrs. Hughes, her kindness to a crying and broken Thomas by taking him in from the courtyard and comforting him when he got fired without a reference was so touching, as was her kind but firm talk to an upset Tom Branson in the library after Lady Sybil died and he'd had that one-night stand.

So I decided she should have a little talk with Jimmy too. ;)

Thank you for reading it.

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**CHAPTER 01**

"Go on, get that down you," Alfred said, placing the plate in front of Jimmy.

Jimmy's stomach lurched at the sight of eggs, sausages and things he wasn't sure he recognised, swimming in a puddle of grease.

"If that's the state of your cooking it's no wonder you couldn't get a job in a kitchen," the blond footman said, pushing the plate away.

"When I worked at the hotel, all the hung-over drunks ate this. You'll thank me in the morning," Alfred told Jimmy and nudged the plate back in front of him.

"Not the black pudding," Jimmy said, shaking his head. "I can't do black pudding, even when I'm sober."

"Fair enough," Alfred picked the offending item off Jimmy's plate.

"And I'm going to need brown sauce, a lot of it."

"What am I, your personal butler now?" Alfred huffed, pushing the condiment across the table to his friend. "Will Sir be needing anything else?"

Jimmy waved him away as he began to eat. Surprisingly it made him feel better. It wasn't the first time Alfred's cooking had saved him from a blinding hangover the next morning. Although he would never admit it out loud, Alfred's food wasn't bad at all, in fact it was quite good.

The rest of the servants had gone to bed early, exhausted by their day out at the Fair, but Mrs. Hughes was still up, and she stopped in the kitchen doorway on her way back from locking the store cupboard for the night.

"I'd like a word please James before you go up. I'll be in my sitting room when you've finished eating."

"May I be of assistance Mrs. Hughes?" Mr. Carson asked, stepping out of the butler's pantry, his bushy eyebrows raised enquiringly at the two footmen sitting at the table. No matter where he was in the house he never seemed to miss a single word being said.

"No I'll manage," Mrs. Hughes replied with a smile. "Nothing for you to be concerned about, I just want to a finish a conversation I was about to have with James at the Fair."

Alfred looked at his colleague and James shrugged, his blank expression saying that he had no idea what she was talking about.

"You're probably in for a bollocking for getting smashed," Alfred said when both the butler and the housekeeper had retreated to their private rooms.

When he'd finished his food, Jimmy knocked on Mrs. Hughes' door.

"Come in and have a seat James," she said, her soft Scottish accent warm and inviting as she nodded to the armchair opposite her.

Jimmy sat down and Mrs. Hughes poured a cup of tea for each of them, smiling gently at him, "Now James, I'd like to talk to you about..."

"Please, Mrs. Hughes," he interrupted her. "Please call me Jimmy, I can't get used to James. I've always been Jimmy, even to Lady Anstruther."

The kindly housekeeper tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, "Very well Jimmy, but only when Mr. Carson's not around. In front of him you'll be James."

"I can live with that", Jimmy flashed her one of his winning smiles.

"Now, about what happened to Mr. Barrow this afternoon. I've spoken to Dr. Clarkson and I thought you'd like to know that Mr. Barrow is feeling much better and is expected to make a full recovery."

"I'm glad to know it," Jimmy replied.

"The doctor also tells me there's talk that Mr. Barrow was beaten up whilst trying to protect you. If that's true I think you owe him an apology, or at the very least your thanks. If it wasn't for Mr. Barrow it would be you lying up there now covered in cuts and bruises."

"I'm glad no lasting damage was done, but asking me to go up to his room to talk to him is too much Mrs. Hughes, after what he did to me," Jimmy said, his hands were shaking and when he placed his teacup on the side table it rattled in the saucer.

"I don't think it's asking too much at all," Mrs. Hughes said, her voice was comforting and her expression was kind. In a pleasant way she reminded Jimmy of his mother. "I think it's time the two of you made peace and put the past behind you. It's been over a year since he tried to kiss you, the rest of the household has got over it and I think it's about time you did too."

Jimmy shook his head. "I can't put it behind me, what he did was appalling. It was repulsive and goes against everything that's natural. Even Mr. Carson said so."

Mrs Hughes exhaled a quiet sigh of exasperation. "Drowning a kitten is repulsive and appalling Jimmy, all Mr. Barrow did was try to kiss you. And where Mr. Carson is concerned, he thinks having a maid serving in the dining room is against everything that's natural and proper, so I think we can waive Mr. Carson's opinion as a measure of what we can cope with, and what we cannot. Truth be told Jimmy, it's not like Mr. Barrow wasn't given any encouragement."

Jimmy was outraged. "I did _not_ encourage him!"

"Perhaps not intentionally, but you did not _discourage_ him either," Mrs. Hughes gently pointed out. "I know Miss O'Brien led you both a merry dance, but I'm not blind, I see what goes on and I hear it too. You're not entirely the innocent party in this Jimmy. Even if you believed it was for the good of your job, you did a fair bit of flirting too. You enjoyed Mr. Barrow's compliments and you accepted his touches right in front of the other staff too. You're almost as much to blame in this as he is. You must accept that and put an end to the situation between you."

Jimmy was distraught at the thought that people had seen Thomas caressing his neck while he played the piano, or pressing up against him when he showed him how to wind the clocks.

"I'd let it go Mrs. Hughes, if he'd only leave me alone, but he won't. Whenever I look up he's staring at me. I can't reach for a piece of toast without him picking up the platter and passing it to me, I can't lift a trunk without him trying to help me. I don't know what he wants from me."

"He wants your forgiveness Jimmy. And your friendship."

"I can't give him that."

"Oh I think you can," said Mrs. Hughes with a gentle smile as she leaned forward and put her hand on Jimmy's knee.

"I cannot," Jimmy shook his head, the colour rising in his cheeks. "If I were his friend people would look at me and think I'm the same as him. I'm not. I'm nothing like him."

"The problem with you Jimmy," Mrs. Hughes said, leaning back in her chair and picking up her teacup again. "Is that you think everything is about you. You think everybody is looking at you and thinking about you every minute of the day. We're not. We've got enough to fill our days without filling our heads with Jimmy Kent as well. But I don't deny that some of the kitchen maids probably give you more thought than they ought to," she added with a soft chuckle. "The truth is, in this house we don't judge people on things that they themselves have no control over. I'm sure you'll have noticed that Mr. Barrow is not treated any differently since the incident. Nobody thinks any less of him, nor of you for that matter."

"Well Mr. Carson was very angry about it," Jimmy protested.

"Mr. Carson was angry at having been made to act on it. He was afraid of the scandal it would bring to the family, especially when you started making a fuss about Mr. Barrow not being given a reference, and Alfred, bless his soul, misguided boy that he is, calling in the police. We all knew about Thomas, and we'd all seen you leading him on even if your intentions weren't quite what they seemed. We all knew that it was only a matter of time before something developed. Why do you think Miss. O'Brien insisted that you kick up a fuss? She knew Mr. Carson wouldn't take action against Thomas unless he was forced to. Thomas is a good worker, he can be a bit of a trial at times even to the most saintly soul, but the minute he steps upstairs he's the very model of dignity and decorum. Nobody deserves to have their life ruined over something they didn't choose in the first place."

"You all knew about Thomas' ...um... _preferences_? All of you?"

"Of course we did," Mrs. Hughes nodded. "Thomas has lived and worked under this roof for ten years and these things don't go unnoticed. I certainly knew about him, Mr. Carson too, and Mrs. Patmore, and Daisy, although it took her a good number of years before she could see the wood for the trees. Mr. Bates and Anna, and most certainly Miss. O'Brien. I cannot speak for her Ladyship or the Dowager Countess, but Lord Grantham certainly knew, as did Lady Sybil, and she was one of the truest friends Mr. Barrow ever had."

"You sound very fond of Mr. Barrow," Jimmy said.

"Oh, he's given me a good run for my money over the years, make no mistake. Most of these grey hairs I've got are due to his plotting and scheming. Between him and Miss. O'Brien, we've had our fair share of intrigue in this house. And that's another reason that you might consider having Mr. Barrow on your side. It's a good life we have here, but it can be ruthless. I've seen many a good soul have the ladder kicked out from under them as they tried to lift themselves to better positions. Many a good person's dreams have been shattered here, most of those to Mr. Barrow's advantage come to think of it. Oh he's a snake alright, he can set you up for a fall quicker than you can blink an eye. Mind you, he's taken a good number of falls himself over the years too, but he's loyal to this house and to the family and he's certainly looking out for _your _best interests whether you want to believe it or not. You could do worse than having a friend like Mr. Barrow watching out for you if you want to make a good career for yourself here."

"I'm not sure I can trust having him as a friend, Mrs. Hughes. I'm not sure he'd accept just being friends. He'd always want more from me and I cannot give it to him. I _will_ not. I'm not like that. He is what he is, and I'm... well, I'm absolutely not like that."

"I hope you won't be offended Jimmy if I speak plainly with you. I don't do it to upset you, I do it because I think you need to hear it," the kindly housekeeper paused for a moment, then asked, "May I speak plainly to you?"

"Go on then," Jimmy replied cautiously.

"I think you're more like Mr. Barrow than you'd like to admit. Whether you like to hear it or not, you did flirt with him, and gave him hope of something more. The only thing Thomas did wrong was to take that hope and open his heart to you. I'm not one to gossip about the staff Mr. Kent, but I've known Thomas since he started here as the third footman and I've watched him fight and claw his way through the ranks to where he is today. It's not always been easy for him, he hasn't many friends among the staff, mostly due to his own doing, and while he acts aloof and sure of himself, it's my option Jimmy, that Thomas is a lonely man who has had to live his life in the shadows, never truly being able to be himself with those around him. I've seen you unashamedly flirting with the maids, pinching their bottoms and stealing kisses from them, don't think I haven't. You get a sharp smack from Mrs. Patmore for doing it and everybody laughs it off, but if Thomas were to do that to someone he fancied, he'd be outcast and vilified. Over the past decade he's watched people fall in love and marry, and leave Downton to start lives of their own. That luxury will always be denied to Mr. Barrow. He can never hope to marry the person he loves, he can never hope to openly declare his affections. He's destined to be alone here for the rest of his life, and if he does find somebody to love he will always have to hide it in shame. With all of that denied to him, can you really bring yourself to deny him forgiveness and friendship too?"

Mrs. Hughes sat back and watched Jimmy for a moment. His brows were creased in a frown, he was chewing his bottom lip and he looking down at his hands clasped in his lap. He didn't move or speak, but she could see he was thinking and she was grateful for that. Knowing Jimmy, she hadn't expected him to listen seriously to what she had to say. She'd expected him to be full of bluster and bravado, but it seemed she'd touched a nerve and she wanted to give him time to take it in and let her words settle on him.

When he finally spoke, his hands had formed fists in his lap. His breathing, while strained, was slow and even, and by the slight flare in his nostrils she could tell that he was struggling to keep it so.

"You said..." he started carefully. "You said I was more like Mr. Barrow than I cared to admit. What do you mean by that?"

Leaning forward, Mrs. Hughes placed a finger under his chin, lifting his head to make him look at her. Then she took his balled fists in her hands and held them gently.

"I mean no offence Jimmy, I'm just telling you what I see, and I see that you are so terrified of Thomas' attention, and of being associated with him, or being thought the same as him, that I think he has struck a chord in you. Perhaps one you didn't even know was there. All I am saying is that you don't have to fight so hard against it. Nobody will think any the less of you for it. It's okay to forgive Thomas, and I'm not asking you to give him anything more, but can you find it in your heart to give him your friendship Jimmy? He's a man very much in need of a friend right now. At the very least will you stop your hostility towards him? The more you push against him, the more he tries to reach out to you. Can the two of you not find some common ground where you can make peace in a way that is acceptable to you both? It's easy to hold a grudge Jimmy, but it takes the grace of a gentleman to shake hands and move on."

"I'm afraid that if I accept his friendship it will lead to something more," Jimmy's voice trembled and tears began to well up in his eyes.

"It won't if you don't allow it." Mrs. Hughes reassured him.

"But I'm afraid that I will allow it. I'm afraid I won't want to stop it."

"That decision is yours, and yours alone Jimmy, but if you find that you want to open your heart to Thomas I can assure you, as long as you are very discreet, you will always be safe in this house." Mrs. Hughes squeezed his hands as she spoke. "And you will make Mr. Barrow a very happy man."

"Have I really been that obvious Mrs. Hughes?" Jimmy was horrified that what he tried to keep hidden deep within himself had been seen by the whole house all along.

"I don't think you need worry about the rest of the staff Jimmy," Mrs. Hughes said, gently prying his fists open until his fingers curled around hers and she could hold his hands properly. "I don't think they suspect a thing, but it's my job to notice everything, and you have had rather a rampant case of red blooded maleness these last few months," she laughed softly and gave Jimmy's hands another gentle, comforting squeeze.

"I suppose I have been overcompensating a bit," he admitted, quietly.

"You've been very eager to prove yourself with the ladies, making a bit too much of a fuss if I'm honest. But I don't expect you to go barrelling head over heels into Mr. Barrow's arms now either," she smiled again. "Just treat him with kindness and respect, the same as you would like to be treated in return."

"I'm afraid when it comes to Mr. Barrow the only thing I can expect in return from him is seduction," Jimmy chuckled nervously, but Mrs. Hughes was glad to see that he was trying to be light-hearted about it.

"You should be rather flattered actually," she said. "In the past Thomas has only sought his conquests among diplomats and dukes."

"Are you saying I'm not good enough for him then?" Jimmy looked genuinely shocked.

"Oh Jimmy!" Mrs Hughes laughed heartily now. She lifted her hand and gave his cheek a gentle pat. "Your ego really does get the better of you; first you baulk at the thought of people associating you with Thomas, and now you're upset that people might think he's reaching below himself with you. You really are too much. No, what I'm saying is that this is the first time in all the years I've known him, that I truly believe Thomas was acting out of love and real affection instead of self-advancement. He put his livelihood, his home and his reputation in jeopardy to make that pass at you. Previously his suitors only received his attention because of what he could gain from them, not for what he felt for them."

Jimmy nodded slowly, understanding the impact of what Mrs. Hughes was saying. Then he took a deep breath, his clear blue eyes holding her gaze. "Thank you Mrs. Hughes, thank you for talking to me. I don't know quite how I'm feeling or what I'm going to do yet, it's all so confusing, but thank you. I feel that a weight has been lifted from me."

"You're a dear boy Jimmy, a little cocky and full of yourself sometimes, but a dear boy all the same. You've brought brightness and laughter to this house. It's been a long time since we had music in the evenings or card games for the boys. And while Mr. Carson might appear to disapprove, he's very happy that everybody's getting along and being friends. Now go upstairs and see if you can make Thomas one of those friends too. Remember Jimmy, it doesn't matter what feelings we have for other people or who those people are, it's what we do with those feelings that's important. It's not who our friends are, it's how we treat them that counts."

"I've treated Mr. Barrow very badly haven't I?"

"You have, but it's not too late to make amends," Mrs. Hughes said, rising from her chair and leading Jimmy to the door. "My advice to you is to accept from him only what you're willing to, and give to him only as much as you're able to," she hugged the young footman in an unusual show of affection and sent him on his way upstairs.

Up in his room Jimmy washed his face and combed his hair neatly, then he took a deep breath, swallowed hard and walked down the corridor to Mr. Barrow's room. His heart was pounding as he knocked softly on the door and stepped inside.

Battered and bruised, Thomas looked up from the newspaper he was reading. His face lit up when he saw Jimmy. His cautious smile was full of tentative hope.

"What are you doing up here?" he asked in a soft voice as he discarded the newspaper on the bedside table.

To be continued….


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

"Ivy are you taking that tray up or are you waiting for it to grow legs and walk by itself?" a harassed Mrs. Patmore asked.

"I don't think I can," replied the kitchen maid. "We're not allowed in the men's corridor."

"Well somebody's got to take it up. Even Mr. Barrow deserves to get a meal while it's still hot."

In spite of her comment, the cook felt sorry for Thomas after the beating he'd had and she'd made sure his bowl of soup at extra bits of chicken in it.

"Hello ladies," Jimmy's cheerful voice floated into the kitchen a moment before he appeared in the doorway.

"You're in a good mood," said Ivy.

"And he has perfect timing for once," Mrs. Patmore smiled and foisted the tray on him. "Take that up to Mr. Barrow and mind you hurry up about it. Ivy's left it sitting here so long he might think we've taken to serving those fancy cold French soups."

Jimmy took the tray without protest and was once again surprised to see how Thomas' face lit up when he walked into the room.

"That's very kind of you Jimmy," Thomas smiled from his bed as he tried to sit upright. His expression of discomfort betrayed how much pain he was in as he pushed himself up on his arms.

"Stay as you are Mr. Barrow," Jimmy said quickly. "I'll help you."

He put the tray on the dresser and went over to the bed. With a hand placed gently on Thomas' shoulder, he fluffed up the pillows then eased him back until he was sitting comfortably against them. He noticed that Thomas' cuts looked worse and more swollen than the day before, and the bruises were turning every shade of black and blue. He was going to be a sorry sight for quite a while yet.

Even after his talk with Mrs. Hughes, Jimmy had been unsure about offering Thomas his friendship. He'd been comfortable with the way things had eventually settled between them; he, keeping a cold distance between himself and the under-butler, and Thomas staying respectfully out of his way. They only spoke to each other when they had to, and even then Jimmy cut him short with a few disdainful words or an icy glare. If he'd behaved that way with Mr. Carson or Mr. Bates he would have earned himself a sharp clip across the ear and possibly a formal warning. But Thomas said nothing. It was an uneasy truce, but one it seemed they could both live with. Alfred often asked him to go easy on Mr. Barrow, and even Jimmy had to admit to himself that he sometimes felt bad about the way he spoke and acted. But Mr. Barrow frightened him, or at least the feelings he was sure Thomas still had for him did. Even a year after that fateful night and everything that had happened since, Thomas still wouldn't hear a bad word about Jimmy. He covered for him when Jimmy shirked his duties and he watched him so closely that he knew just when to step in to help and just when to fade into the background.

Sometimes late at night when he couldn't sleep, Jimmy lay in bed and wondered how things would have been if Mr. Barrow wasn't the way he was. He could still recall the first day he arrived at Downton, the moment he passed the last cottage and rounded the bend in the lane, and there it was, the 'Big House' as the village woman who had given him directions called it. Big didn't quite describe it in Jimmy's view, it was huge, enormous, magnificent. Nothing quite prepares you for the first time you see Downton Abbey in all its spectacular glory. He'd walked around the back and into the courtyard, a maid had opened the back door just as he'd been about to ring the bell. He'd asked her where he might find Mr. Carson, but she just stared at him and smiled. When she did finally answer, she told him to go down the corridor to the door on the right. He'd walked in but all the doors were closed, both right and left, so he'd kept going until he found himself in the kitchen where he had the same strange, mesmerizing effect on the maids there. Jimmy was used to getting attention from the ladies but this was ridiculous. It was getting uncomfortable when suddenly a man walked in; tall, dark, and when he turned around, handsome. Very handsome. It was strange to think his first impression of Mr. Barrow had been how good looking he was. In spite of himself and his nerves that day, Jimmy had felt a little flutter in his chest, a little skip of his heart when Thomas, along with the maids, seemed unable to take his eyes off him , and smiling at him had asked, 'Who's this?'

He'd been glad to get the job and had started work the next week. He hadn't given Thomas another thought, hadn't even noticed that he wasn't there until the first night he was getting changed to go down to serve dinner, and heard a voice in the doorway of his room. Again he was struck by how beautiful Thomas was. It surprised him that his mind had chosen 'beautiful' to describe Thomas. Handsome, yes he certainly was, but he was beautiful too. But there was something beyond his looks that made you notice him. Whether it was the way he was always so perfectly groomed, his uniform looking like it had been tailored to exactly fit his body, his ink-black hair always so perfectly slicked back, never a strand out of place, or whether it was the way he held himself, the way he stood with his chin lifted just high enough to look aloof but not haughty, the way he strode the hallways with quiet confidence, exuding power and authority. Jimmy didn't know what it was about Thomas that made him stand out, but stand out he did.

That first night when he'd found Thomas, just back from a trip to London, standing in his doorway asking if he'd got the job and welcoming him to the household, Jimmy had felt like he'd fallen under a spell. Before he knew what he was saying he was asking Thomas if he could come to him for help if he needed it, since Thomas had once been a footman too. Thomas seemed a little surprised by the request but he'd smiled charmingly and said, 'Yes, why not.'

To this day Jimmy didn't know why he'd asked that. He'd been a footman in Lady Anstruther's house for three years, there was very little he didn't know about the job, so why had he asked Thomas if he could come to him for help? Had he been drawn to him? Had he wanted an excuse to be near him? Had he unknowingly picked up on Thomas' sexual preferences and was he unconsciously encouraging him? The thought rolled over and over in his mind every time he lay awake at night thinking about it. No he hadn't picked up anything strange about Thomas, if he had he might have expected the uncomfortably close attention Thomas suddenly started paying him. As it was, it came as a shock.

For many nights sleep would elude him as he lay churning over one possibility after another in his mind. Why had Thomas singled him out for attention? Why not Alfred? Why not one of the hall boys? Had he given off some signals? Had he secretly encouraged Thomas without knowing it? And then came the thought that he always tried to avoid, the one he always pushed to the back of his mind and refused to allow himself to ponder on... why hadn't he put a stop to it as soon as it started? Why had he let Thomas go on flirting with him and touching him? Yes he'd talked to Miss. O'Brien about it and she'd made it clear that if he didn't want to get his marching orders he should keep quiet and stop implying something so unseemly. But why hadn't he done something about it? Why hadn't he spoken out?

The answer always came in the same way to Jimmy, a tightening in his gut, a clenching around his chest that made it hard to take a breath. A rising nausea in his throat and beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. He didn't do anything about it because he liked it.

The thought made him feel dizzy and sick. The realization that he liked it. He liked it when Thomas touched him, he liked the cool grey eyes watching him across the breakfast table, and the quick secret smile when they passed each other on the stairs. He liked the sound of Thomas' voice and he was fascinated by the subtle way it changed when he spoke to His Lordship compared to when he spoke to the servants downstairs. He loved the easy elegance and grace that Thomas carried himself with, the way he barked orders at the hall boys, the way he stood to attention in the dining room upstairs, his jaw tight, his perfectly shaped lips pursed together, always with a bemused expression on his face, his head never moving but those sharp grey eyes never missing a thing. So different from the way he leaned casually against a door frame downstairs, cigarette in hand, dropping his (usually sarcastic) two pennies worth into the conversation. Upstairs he wore an expression somewhere between suspicious and disapproving. Downstairs he always looked like he was watching, listening, planning. But Jimmy had seen another side to Thomas, one that he wasn't sure anybody else in the house ever had. He'd seen the smiles that weren't smirks, he'd seen those cautious grey eyes melt when they gazed at him, he'd seen a warmth in Thomas' usually cold countenance. The way his voice changed when he stood pressed close to Jimmy's back showing him how to wind the clocks. The way he spoke of them with warmth and passion like they were real living things. The way his hands rested so firmly on Jimmy's shoulders and guided his fingers so gently on the clock face. Jimmy hadn't learned much about winding clocks or dials or hands or springs, Thomas' voice had been drowned out by the pounding of his own heart in his chest. He hadn't been able to feel the resistance in the springs that Thomas had told him to watch for, all he had felt was Thomas' soft breath on the side of his neck and the taut length of his body pressed close to his back. He smelled of cigarettes and cologne, it was the most erotic scent Jimmy thought he'd ever inhaled, and he hated himself for it. He hated what it meant, and he hated what it made him for liking it so much.

Even more than that, he hated Thomas for showing his affection so publicly. Why could he not be more discreet? Why did he have to be so open about it? Stroking his neck at the piano in front of everybody, holding his hand under the table after Lady Sybil died. Standing so close to him by the clock, letting his hand linger for just too long when he passed Jimmy something, gazing too adoringly into his eyes when they spoke. Well at least he'd tried to kiss him in private, that was the only consolation Jimmy could give himself. But even that had been thrown open for the world to see. Bloody Alfred and his incredibly bad timing. Why couldn't he have come up to bed ten minutes earlier before Thomas even got into the room? Or ten minutes later when it was all over and done with? Why did he have to come into Jimmy's room at all?

And so the big 'why'. Or rather the big what. The big '_what if'_ question that kept Jimmy awake at night, breaking out in a cold sweat and grabbing for the glass of water on his bedside table to quell the rising bile in his throat. What if Alfred hadn't come in at all? What if he'd woken up with Thomas kissing him and nobody had disturbed them at all? What then? What would he have done? Shouted out? Kept quiet? Fought Thomas off? Or submitted to him? What did Thomas even want? Just a kiss? More than a kiss? Everything? Nothing? It was a question Jimmy could never answer because he could never allow himself to admit the truth. What would he have done? Really, he didn't know. He wanted to believe he'd have called out, shouted, kicked, screamed, punched and got Thomas off him in any way he could. But the truth was he couldn't say for sure, even if his life and soul depended on it, that he wouldn't have just lain there and kissed Thomas back.

It was an abominable thought. Foul, Mr. Carson had called it. Jimmy had been standing outside the door on the day Mr. Carson had called Thomas into his office, listening to what was being said inside. He'd wanted to let the whole thing go, just forget about it and hope Thomas never tried it again, but Alfred couldn't let it lie, he had to open his big mouth and by the end of a very difficult day he'd spoken to Mr. Carson and Thomas' world had come crashing down around him. And Jimmy was terrified his world was about to collapse as well. So he'd listened at the door, wanting to know what Thomas said about him, how much he was going to blame him. He wanted to be prepared to defend himself when he got called into Mr. Carson's office. But he never had to, Thomas did all the defending for him. From beginning to end he made it clear that Jimmy was the innocent party. It had all been Thomas' fault, his mistake, his misreading of the signs. And in the end just before Thomas opened the door, Jimmy slipped away, but not before he'd heard Thomas, in a quiet voice and with more dignity than he could imagine, tell Mr. Carson that he was not foul, he wasn't the same as him but he wasn't foul. And he'd been proud of Thomas for it, proud that he'd stood his ground and walked away with his head held high.

Everything that happened after that, Jimmy preferred to forget. He despised O'Brien for talking him into making such a fuss. He felt sick at his own weakness that meant saving his own skin at the cost of Thomas' ruin. But somewhere deep inside him, he knew Thomas would somehow survive it. Thomas was strong and self-assured, he'd fought his whole life against prejudice, it had hardened him, made him calculating and cruel, but it had given him the means to survive, to preserve himself, to pick himself up and carry on.

He'd truly believed that Thomas would be alright, that he had the strength and capability to survive anything life threw at him, that he was hard enough to take the knocks and get up again, fighting.

Last night he'd seen just how wrong he'd been.

He had stepped into Thomas' room after his talk with Mrs. Hughes and found a shy and vulnerable man sitting alone on his bed wearing just a tight under-shirt and a pair of striped pyjama bottoms. He'd been struck by how young Thomas looked with his hair all messy and flopping down over his forehead. How unsure of himself he seemed and how desperately hopeful he looked when he saw Jimmy standing there.

The confident man who usually had a cutting answer for everything was gone, and in his place Jimmy found a softer, almost fragile man. Through his severe pain he tried to smile and make light of it, but it only made him seem more breakable. He almost looked embarrassed when he shyly admitted that he'd been following Jimmy. His voice was pensive when he accepted that Jimmy would never give him what he wanted, but his relief and happiness were genuine when the pretty footman had agreed that they could start over as friends.

It was clear that Thomas still had strong feelings for him, and Jimmy began to realize how much his snide and stinging remarks must have hurt Thomas. He'd lain awake all night thinking about it. Mrs. Hughes' words tumbled over and over in his mind. _Give him as much as you can. But accept only as much as you want to_.

And now, as he found himself back in Thomas' room, delivering a dinner tray to him, Jimmy wondered just how much he could give, and how much he could accept in return. It felt strange to be so close to him after keeping him at arm's length for so long. But as he held Thomas' shoulder, plumped the pillows and eased him back against them, he realized he felt comfortable, relieved even, that they could have physical contract without there being some undercurrent of meaning to it.

"Can I get you something for your pain Mr. Barrow?" Jimmy asked as he carefully placed the tray on Thomas' lap. "It looks like you're a bit worse today."

"Dr. Clarkson left some pain powders, but that's very thoughtful of you Jimmy, thank you." Thomas tilted his head to his bedside table where a glass of water sat next to a pile of little folded papers.

"I'll come back for the tray in a bit," Jimmy smiled "I'll bring you up some tea if you like," he hesitated for just a second, then let his fingertips brush lightly against Thomas' bare forearm. He heard the raven-haired man catch his breath as their eyes met. Jimmy smiled and gently touched Thomas' arm again.

"Thank you Jimmy," Thomas said in a voice barely more than a whisper.

Jimmy wasn't sure if he was being thanked for the promised cup of tea or the tentative touch that Thomas had craved for so long. He started towards the door then he turned, and quickly, before he thought better of it, said, "I could stay if you like, keep you company while you eat. I could read the newspaper to you again."

"I'd like that," was the soft reply he got.

It was just as well that Jimmy stayed because Thomas' muscles ached so much and his arms were so stiff that he could barely lift the spoon to his mouth. The soup splashed back into the bowl and splattered onto the tray.

Jimmy watched him try again but was no use. He put the newspaper down and moved from the chair to the edge of Thomas' bed, sitting down facing him.

"I'll help you."

Thomas shook his head, surprised by Jimmy's boldness. "No, I'll manage."

"You've not done too well so far Mr. Barrow," Jimmy told him, taking the spoon from his hand and dipping it into the bowl.

Thomas opened his mouth as Jimmy held the spoon to his lips. He had to tell himself to breathe. A few short days ago, Jimmy would leave a room if they found themselves alone in it, now here he was sitting on Thomas' bed, helping him to eat. No, feeding him. It felt like a dream, it was more than he had ever dared hope for after everything that had happened between them. If this is all they ever shared, the closest they ever got, it would be enough for Thomas. Jimmy was concentrating on his task, his eyes fixed on the soup bowl and the spoon, leaving Thomas free to gaze at him unseen.

He watched Jimmy's fingers wrapped around the spoon. He looked at his delicate eyelashes, the lock of sun-kissed blond hair that fell forward over his smooth forehead. He stared at Jimmy's lips, he loved the shape of them, the curve of them, the way his top lip was ever so slightly fuller than the bottom one. It gave his mouth a bee-stung appearance. Thomas felt the heat rising in his cheeks as he remembered how good those soft lips had felt against his. He pulled his gaze away, looked down, followed the spoon as Jimmy lifted it from the bowl to his mouth. He opened his lips as the spoon went in, lifted his gaze again and found himself staring straight into Jimmy's calm blue eyes. The moment was fleeting but it was there none the less. Their eyes locked and Jimmy held his gaze for a moment before he flicked away. But Thomas saw the corners of his mouth lift almost imperceptibly, the shy, unsure bud of a smile. It filled him with hope.

Thomas would have been happy to sit in silence and just watch Jimmy, but the young footman was starting to feel uneasy. The silence was feeling awkward to Jimmy and he needed to break it.

"May I ask you something Mr. Barrow?" he said as he pulled the spoon out of Thomas' mouth.

"I'd like it if you'd call me Thomas. Mr. Barrow in front of the others, but Thomas in private."

Jimmy looked unsure, then nodded, "Right you are Thomas, I can do that," he said. The name felt surprisingly good in his mouth and it slipped off his tongue easier than he'd thought it would. He scraped up the last of the soup and spooned it into Thomas' mouth.

"Why did you get involved in the fight?"

"You know why. You'd had a bit to drink and I followed you to keep an eye out."

"Yes but why did you think you stood a chance? There were two of them and one was bigger than you. Why didn't you just run away like I did?"

Thomas bit his bottom lip while he thought about the answer. Why hadn't he run away? He'd got Jimmy out of their grasp, why hadn't he legged it too?

"I don't know, pride I suppose. I wasn't really thinking about myself. I didn't want to see you get hurt. I just wanted them to leave you alone. I thought I could protect you. I'd had boxing lessons when I was a lad in Manchester. I've thrown a few good punches in my time so I reckoned I stood a better chance against them than you did."

"I hope you never paid for those boxing lessons, they didn't go you much good," Jimmy gave him a cheeky grin.

Thomas chuckled, "They didn't teach me anything about what to do when you're being held down and having your face pummelled, I'll give you that. But the important thing is that you weren't harmed."

Was it the glow of the lamp on his cheek, or was Jimmy blushing? Thomas wasn't sure, but he didn't think he'd ever seen Jimmy look as beautiful as he did in that moment. It was torture knowing he could never reach up and stroke his cheek or brush his thumb across those kissable lips. It was Thomas who needed a distraction now.

"Take this away and read to me again," he said pushing the tray towards Jimmy.

The young blond picked the tray off Thomas' lap and put it on the dresser, then he sat back down in the chair and picked up the paper. He hadn't read more than a paragraph when the door opened and they both looked up to find Mr. Carson standing there with a tray, looking as surprised to see them as they were to see him.

"Is everything alright here James?" he asked in his deep, resonant voice. "You are not obliged to be in here. It is after working hours and you have every right to refuse Thomas' requests to read to him, or anything else he asks for that matter."

"Everything's fine Mr. Carson," Jimmy said, "Thomas ...uh … Mr. Barrow and I have reached an understanding. We've put all of that behind us and agreed to be friends."

"Glad to hear it," Mr. Carson said, still furrowing his brows suspiciously. "I trust your new found friendship will not require the intervention of the police?"

"No, Mr. Carson," Jimmy said quickly. Thomas remained silent. The grey-haired butler nodded and walked towards the bed.

"While it is not in my nature to wait on my staff," he said, making it very clear that such a thing would never happen again. "Mrs. Hughes insisted that I bring you a cup of tea on my way up for the night."

"Please convey my thanks to Mrs. Hughes," Thomas said with a small nod of his head as Jimmy got up to take the tray.

Turning to leave, Mr. Carson shot them both another warning look. At the door his hand hesitated on the doorknob for a moment but instead of closing it, he opened it just a touch wider. The two looked at each other, Thomas shook his head with a wry smile and Jimmy began to giggle.

"That must have taken quite some badgering from Mrs. Hughes to get him to do that," he said softly to Thomas.

It wasn't long before Jimmy's eyes were straining and Thomas was yawning.

"I'll let you get some rest now," Jimmy said as he folded the newspaper and stood up. "I'll look in on you in the morning."

"Thank you Jimmy. I really mean it, thank you."

Something in his expression and the sincerity reflected in his eyes touched something deep inside Jimmy. With his hand resting on Thomas' shoulder, he bent down and softly kissed his forehead. Thomas' eyes widened in surprise.

"You don't have to do that Jimmy..." his voice was no more than a whisper.

"I know, but I want to. Besides, I feel like I've owed you this for a very long time," Jimmy said as he bent again, lower this time and cautiously touched this mouth to Thomas' lips. It wasn't a proper kiss by any means, but for the moment it was as much as Jimmy could give.

Thomas was still sitting in his bed with a stunned expression on his face long after the blond footman had left the room and closed the door behind him.

To be continued….


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Thomas had been sleeping deeply when voices in the corridor roused him. The day at Downton had begun. Servants were moving about, shoes sounded loudly against polished floorboards, doors opened and closed. Thomas groaned and turned over slowly, still aware of the sharp pain radiating from his ribs. He pulled the blanket over his head and tried to go back to sleep.

"Are you awake?" Jimmy's voice called softly from the doorway.

"Not even the dead could sleep through this racket," Thomas said, pushing the blanket back and rubbing his eyes sleepily. He sat up carefully, yawned, stretched and rubbed his eyes again, then raked his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair, making it more messy than it already was.

"I'm about to go down, but Mr. Branson is out inspecting the pastures and said he would eat in the village, so I'm not needed in the dining room this morning. I can bring you up some breakfast. What would you like?"

"I could get used to being waited on hand and foot," Thomas said, scraping his hair back and yawning again. He asked for some toast and tea, and just as Jimmy turned to leave he called after him, "Ask Mrs. Patmore if she can spare a cup of Epsom Salts too."

After Jimmy left, Thomas pulled himself out of bed and made his way slowly to the small bathroom attached to his room. One of the nicest perks of being promoted to under-butler was moving to a bigger room with a private bathroom. There were only two other attic rooms with private facilities. Mr. Carson had one, Mrs. Hughes the other. He brushed his teeth and filled a basin with warm water to shave. It wasn't easy to scrape a razor around the cuts without opening them up again, but he did a good enough job. By the time he was finished Jimmy was back with his breakfast tray.

"I said toast, but Mrs. Patmore had a better idea," Jimmy grinned as he waited for Thomas to get back into bed before he put the tray on his lap. As well as a steaming pot of tea and toast there was a plate of bacon, eggs and sausages. On the corner of the tray was a cup of fine white crystals.

"What's that for?" Jimmy asked, pointing to the Epsom Salts.

"The bath," Thomas replied, speaking through a mouth full of food. He hadn't realized how hungry he was, and a good night's sleep had eased his aching muscles so he was able to eat by himself.

"What does it do?"

"Helps the body heal," Thomas said, putting another forkful of food in his mouth. "We used it at the hospital during the war."

"Would you like me to run a bath for you?" Jimmy asked picking up the cup and disappearing into the tiny en-suite bathroom before Thomas could answer. "How much of the salt should I put in?" he called out over the sound of running water.

"All of it," Thomas called back.

He had finished eating by the time the bath was full and he padded barefoot into the bathroom. Jimmy was folding a fresh towel over the rail next to the bathtub. Thomas tried to pull his shirt over his head but felt a sharp pain shoot up his side and dropped his arms with loud gasp. Before he could stop him, Jimmy had hold of the hem of his shirt and was tugging it upwards. Between them, one arm at a time they managed to get it off without causing Thomas too much discomfort.

Jimmy was shocked to see how badly injured Thomas' torso was. His chest had an angry red graze across it and his ribs were terribly bruised. On the side of his stomach, low down near his hip was a big red mark that looked like the imprint of a shoe. He had been kicked as well as punched. Jimmy tried not to stare.

"I think I can manage from here," Thomas said, his fingers hooked into the waistband of his pyjama bottoms ready to pull them down, but waiting for Jimmy leave the room.

"Will you be able to get into the tub?" Jimmy asked. "I can help you Mr. Barrow, it's alright, I'm not shy."

"Well I am," Thomas said, shoving him towards the door.

The truth was, he didn't trust his body to behave itself with Jimmy standing so close to him, and heaven forbid, touching him to help him into the bathtub, especially once all his clothes were off.

Thomas closed the door but not all the way. The open few inches were just enough for Jimmy to see into the mirror. The rest of the room was reflected there. He didn't want to look but he couldn't help it, his eyes were mesmerised by the sight of Thomas peeling his pyjama bottoms off. His skin was pale and unblemished except for the bruises and cuts. Years of treading miles of corridors and climbing hundreds of stairs every day for most of his life had given Thomas a firm, toned physique.

Everything about Thomas, from his strong thighs and well defined arms to the square cut of his jaw was masculine. Even his hands were strong and manly. Everything about him defied Jimmy's idea of what a man of Thomas' persuasion should be like. He'd come across homosexual men before at Lady Anstruther's. She often surrounded herself with a coterie of theatre 'luvvies', arty types and poets, but they'd all fluttered about mincing and flouncing. They'd been reed-thin with sun-starved complexions and long, limp-wristed limbs that they draped lethargically over the drawing room furniture. They were effeminate in everything from their dress to their mannerisms. They spoke in slow, lazy drawls, emphasising a point with a dramatic roll of the eyes or a wafting wave of a hand.

There was nothing of those men in Thomas. He seemed to exude testosterone where they gave off only perfumed femininity. They had made Jimmy feel uncomfortable and he'd always found himself lowering his eyes as he served tea and drinks. But Thomas was having the opposite effect on him. He couldn't seem to pull his eyes away. The lines and planes of Thomas' body drew him. Through the reflection in the mirror Jimmy studied the shape of his arms, the long, shapely line of his thighs, and the swell of his buttocks.

But it was the glimpse he caught of the front of Thomas' body as he carefully lowered himself into the hot water that made Jimmy's cheeks flush with colour. At his previous job Jimmy would often join the other male servants when they went sneaking out to skinny dip in the lake on the estate. He'd stolen quick, admiring glances at their bodies but none of the men were a touch on Thomas. Thomas was magnificent. Judging by the other men Jimmy had seen, Thomas was big _down there_, and before he could stop himself, Jimmy wondered what he would look like when he was aroused. He closed his eyes to stop the image, but it was already there in his mind and he blushed.

He left Thomas to soak and relax while he took the breakfast tray back downstairs, then he cleaned a pair of Tom Branson's shoes to pass the time and went back upstairs to find Thomas still in the bathtub working a lather of soap through his hair. The bathwater was milky with soap suds, enough to protect Thomas' modesty, so he allowed Jimmy to pick up the jug from the basin and help rinse the soap from his hair. Jimmy found a clean pair of pyjamas in Thomas' dresser and brought them to him, then he closed the bathroom door to give Thomas the privacy to get out of the bath and dry himself.

When Thomas came back into the bedroom he was dressed and rubbing the towel vigorously over his hair, before combing his fingers through it.

"I feel like one of the living again," he announced with a smile as he pulled an armchair closer to the one Jimmy was sitting in and lowered himself into it. "Make yourself useful and hang that up for me," he said tossing the towel at Jimmy, who draped it over the back of the desk chair next to him.

When Jimmy turned back, Thomas was leaning back in his armchair, his head resting on the back of it, his eyes closed and his hands resting on his thighs. He hadn't put his glove back on after his bath and Jimmy got a good look the untidy star-shaped scar where the bullet went through this hand in the war. The wound had been clean through his palm and he thought Thomas had been lucky not to have lost any fingers or even the use of his hand entirely. The scar was very noticeable and ugly, but it wasn't repulsive to look at and he wondered why Thomas always wanted to keep it hidden.

"Did it hurt?" he asked.

"What?"

"This," Jimmy reached out and touched the scar with the tip of his finger.

"Like the blazes," Thomas said, pulling his hand away.

"Does it trouble you now?"

"Only when the weather changes," he seemed troubled when he said it, his eyes downcast with a distant look on his face as if he was remembering things he had long wanted to forget.

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "May I ask you something?"

"Go on," Thomas reached for a pack of cigarettes, took one out and lit it.

"The other day at the fair when you followed me..."

Not this again, thought Thomas. He didn't understand why Jimmy wouldn't let it go. He knew the young man felt badly about it but Thomas would have taken the beating, and so much more, if it meant protecting Jimmy from harm. As it was, he was already thinking about the attack as the price he'd had to pay to regain Jimmy's trust and respect. They'd spent more time together in friendship over the past two days than they had in the past year. If he hadn't been so badly beaten Jimmy wouldn't be sitting with him now. He'd still be launching hostile words at Thomas across the dinner table instead of helping him to eat and wash. He accepted the cuts and bruises as punishment for the torment he'd caused Jimmy. He would gladly have suffered them over and over again if it meant he could get up each day and look forward to just one smile from the lovely footman. He knew that Jimmy had never asked for it, and probably hated it, but Thomas missed those precious moments so long ago when he'd been able to put his hand on Jimmy's shoulder or give his neck a secret caress. And now here they were, and it was Jimmy who was offering his hand in friendship, it was Jimmy's fingers that lingered too long on his arm, and Jimmy's lips that had brushed against his mouth last night. Thomas felt like he was living a dream and he was afraid of waking up to find it wasn't true.

His cigarette hung from his lips, the smoke rising in front of his face making his eyes narrow and his brow crease. He didn't speak, instead he just watched Jimmy through the spiral of smoke. Then with his fingers clamped around it he sucked a mouthful of calming nicotine from it, and slowly blew the smoke out through slightly parted lips. Jimmy's eyes were fixed on the burning tip of the cigarette as Thomas returned it to his mouth and drew on it again. This time he held the smoke in longer then turned to flick the ash into an ashtray on the table next to him and exhaled. The burn in his lungs felt good. Something in Jimmy's voice, the way he had asked the question gave Thomas an ominous feeling.

"You've asked me that already, and I've told you why," he said, sucking in another lungful of smoke and blowing it out. His hands were starting to tremble as he lifted the cigarette back to his mouth. He clamped it between his lips and clasped his hands in his lap to keep them steady.

Jimmy watched him closely, his face unreadable but his eyes telling Thomas that he was not satisfied with the answer.

"But why exactly did you follow me? On the off chance that I'd get mugged and you could leap in like a mad fool and save me? What were the chances?" Jimmy stared at Thomas, his eyes pleading for the truth. "You had no way of knowing anything would happen to me, so why did you follow me? You knew I was a bit drunk, did you think I'd be too fuzzy-headed to resist your advances? Maybe I wouldn't remember it the next day?"

"I am _not _a monster." Thomas said the words calmly and slowly but there was an edge of ice in his voice, the cigarette still between his lips, bobbed as he spoke.

"Then why?"

There was more to this than the simple question Jimmy was asking, there was something he was trying to say. Years of observing people and learning to read their tell-tale signs had taught Thomas that. Jimmy was going to make his point in a roundabout way, but he still didn't seem sure that he could trust Thomas completely, and the only way Thomas knew how to make him do that was to give him the honest answers he wanted to hear.

"Because I'm fond of you Jimmy. You were drunk, you were flashing your winnings about, you were drawing attention to yourself."

Thomas took a last long drag on his cigarette, then he stubbed it out and blew the smoke out, tilting his head upwards so it didn't go in Jimmy's face. Then he leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and looked straight into Jimmy's clear blue eyes.

Thomas took a deep breath and continued. "And I thought we might be able to talk without the others around. I thought as you were very tipsy you might not be so hostile, you might let your guard down just long enough to hear what I wanted to tell you."

"What did you want to say to me?" Jimmy's voice was rough with emotion.

"That I'm not an evil person. That I'm sorry for what happened that night, that I hadn't meant to harm you or offend you. That if I hadn't been led to believe you felt the same way, I would never have come into your room and kissed you. I'll not lie to you Jimmy, I was drawn to you from the moment I saw you. I still am. I feel badly for the way things turned out. I looked for the signs, I wanted to believe they were there... I _wanted_ to believe that there was something between us. That's why I followed you, I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am, that I'd meant no harm by it, I was acting out of hope, and I made a mistake. That's God's honest truth Jimmy, that's all I wanted from you."

Jimmy's eyes were glistening and he blinked them rapidly. "When you came into my room that night, what did you want from me?"

"To kiss you..."

"If Alfred hadn't been there and I'd kissed you back what would have happened?"

Thomas shook his head slowly. "I don't know, I can't give you an answer to that because it didn't turn out that way."

"But if it had, imagine if it did?"

"I'd have been a very happy man." Thomas' eyes clouded over when he said it, as if he'd had a fleeting glimpse of something wonderful and then lost it again.

"What would you have done then?"

"I don't know. Kissed you again I suppose."

"Would you have got into my bed with me?"

"Maybe."

Not satisfied with Thomas' answer, Jimmy pressed him again

"Would you have?" .

"Yes."

"Would you have had sex with me?"

The question was blunt and Thomas was a bit taken aback, but he answered it truthfully.

"Probably not that night, no."

"But you wanted to?"

"Eventually, yes."

They both fell silent as the words hung in the air between them. Thomas' gaze dropped and he stared at the floor. After a while he cleared his throat but his voice was still hoarse when he spoke.

"I'd not have had sex with you, I'd have made love to you... there's a difference." He still looked at the floorboards unable to meet Jimmy's eyes.

"Did you think you were in love with me?"

"Yes." Thomas' answer was so quiet that Jimmy almost didn't hear it. His hands shook as he lit another cigarette.

"Are you still?"

Thomas nodded, he didn't trust his voice to stay steady enough to speak.

He smoked the cigarette quickly, one puff after another, then stubbed it out and took another from the pack, but didn't light it, just twirled it around in his fingers.

"What drew you to me? What made you think I was like you?" Jimmy asked. His mouth was dry and he tried to lick his lips but it didn't help.

"You're beautiful," Thomas finally looked up at him. "You walked into the kitchen that first day and I thought I'd seen an angel."

"But what made you think that I was the same as you? You can't base it on looks alone, so what did you see in me that made you think I was different? Why did you come on to me and not Alfred?"

Thomas looked at him in mock shock, his mouth open and his eyes wide. "Alfred? Come on, really? Not even a blind man would..."

It lifted what had become a very heavy atmosphere and Jimmy's lips broke into a smile, but his eyes were still serious. "But there must have been something about me that made you think I would respond to you."

"Look if you're asking me if you gave me any signs that led me on, then no, you didn't. If you're worried that there's something about you that screams nancyboy, there isn't. I thought you were beautiful, but I also thought you were a real ladies man the way you charmed the girls. But O'Brien kept telling me otherwise. I told her she'd lost her mind, but she kept insisting, she kept telling me things she said she heard from Alfred. I started to doubt myself, to wonder if there was something I missed, something I didn't pick up on. So I tested her theory, I made little passes at you and when you didn't reject me outright, I began to hope for something more."

Thomas looked at Jimmy for a long time, waiting for him to say something, but he didn't. So Thomas continued.

"You've done nothing wrong Jimmy, it was my fault. I wanted so much to believe in something that wasn't ever there. I made a mistake, and I'm sorry that you've had to pay for it."

A small sound escaped from Jimmy's throat. He tried to choke it back but it was out before he could stop it. He blinked his eyes furiously as tears threatened to spill down his cheeks.

"I want to tell you something Mr. Barrow. May I?" his voice hitched and his body was trembling.

"It's Thomas," the under-butler said gently as he reached out and placed a hand on Jimmy's knee.

He wanted so much to hug him tightly and soothe his tears away, but the mood was tense, Jimmy was fragile and he, himself felt shattered. He pulled himself out of the chair and walked on stiff legs to his dresser. He pulled a bottle and a glass from the bottom drawer, then picked up a teacup from the bedside table. Sitting back in the chair he poured a tot of whiskey into the glass for Jimmy and a bigger one into the cup for himself. Jimmy took the drink with a shaking hand and swallowed it in one go. Thomas did the same and poured them another one each. Then he shifted forward and placed his hand back on Jimmy's leg.

"Tell me, I'm listening," he said gently.

The sudden rattle of the doorknob startled them both as Daisy came bursting into the room.

"I know I shouldn't be up here, but I had to tell you the news!" she almost shouted. It took her a second to register Jimmy sitting there with the glass still in his hand. "What are you doing here? Mr. Carson will have your hide if he finds out. Are you drinking?"

"There must be a reason you've troubled yourself to run all the way upstairs?" Thomas' voice was clear and calm, but his eyes were cautious, uncertain if he could trust Daisy not to go downstairs and blurt out what she'd seen.

Remembering what she'd sprinted all the way up to the attic to say, her face broke into a broad grin. "Lady Mary's had her baby! It's a boy!" she beamed.

"In Scotland?" Thomas asked.

"No here in the village. She's come back early and gone straight to Downton hospital. The whole family are coming back tomorrow. Mr. Carson is running around like a mad man, the house isn't ready and Mrs. Patmore hasn't got any food prepared. You'd better come down Jimmy, right away before Mr. Carson sees you're missing."

Thomas shooed her out and he and Jimmy sat staring at each other.

"A little boy," Jimmy said with wonder.

"Another spoilt Crawley needing to be waited on hand and foot," Thomas sighed.

All thoughts of their conversation were forgotten. Jimmy splashed water on his face and ran his fingers through his hair while Thomas rummaged through his coat pockets for a tin of peppermints. It was bad enough he'd kept Jimmy from his work all morning, but the last thing he needed was for Mr. Carson to smell alcohol on the young footman too.

To be continued….


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

The next morning at breakfast, Jimmy was surprised to find Thomas dressed and sitting at the table when he walked into the servant's hall. The previous afternoon had been exhausting as they prepared for the unexpected early return of the family. Mrs Hughes had the girls running up and down, polishing and cleaning. Jimmy had been sent into the village with a shopping list from Mrs. Patmore, and Alfred had been put to work helping her in the kitchen. Mr Carson meanwhile, stomped about trying to occupy himself but getting in everybody's way instead. When the servants had finally been sent up for the night it was almost one o'clock in the morning. Jimmy had dropped into his bed and fallen fast asleep. When he looked in on Thomas in the morning, he had found his room empty.

Looking across the table at him now, Jimmy was stuck by how elegant he looked despite his battered face. His hair, freshly washed and falling over his brow yesterday, was today slicked with pomade and combed back away from his forehead. His broad chest and lithe body were once again concealed by his high-collared uniform, his scarred hand once more hidden inside a glove. He had a different air about him, he sat straighter, held his head higher and observed everything from a cool, aloof distance. Even the way he spoke and held his cigarette was different. It was hard to believe that he was the same man Jimmy had fed soup to, helped rinse his hair in the bathtub, and almost poured his heart and secrets out to the day before. There was nothing warm in Thomas' eyes, until they fell on the blond footman sitting opposite him, then his expression softened and the quick smile he gave Jimmy was filled with affection.

Mr. Carson's entrance at breakfast was announced by the sound of chairs scraping on the stone floor as they all stood up to greet him. He nodded and said good morning to them, then his eyes fell on Thomas.

"It's good to see you back at work Thomas," he said in his loud, slightly gruff voice. "We didn't expect to see you for a few days yet. I trust you've sufficiently recovered?"

"I have Mr. Carson," Thomas replied. "I heard the family are coming back early and I thought you'd need all the hands you could get."

"We do indeed," Mr. Carson boomed, "But mind that you stay downstairs Thomas, yours is not a face currently fit to be seen serving in an Earl's dining room."

"Oh it's just a few scrapes and bruises," Mrs. Hughes cut in. "They'll hear about our adventures at the fair soon enough and you can't keep Mr. Barrow confined below stairs forever."

"None the less Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson told her. "I'll not have scrapes and bruises on show in this house. We have standards to maintain here. The family have already had to contend with the wild Scottish Highlands, I'll not have them greeted by a face that looks like it's been in a Glaswegian pub fight on their return."

Mrs. Hughes rolled her eyes and the rest of the servants stifled their giggles. Even Thomas smirked quietly to himself. He had no intention of keeping out of sight and staying downstairs at all.

0oo0

It was an hour before the train was expected, Matthew Crawley's car was on its way to the station, ready for him to drive straight to the hospital. Bates had telephoned to say that the rest of the family would only be arriving the following morning as they hadn't been able to get ready and make it to the station on time to catch the same train as Mr. Crawley. It gave everybody a bit more time to prepare but it didn't help Mr. Carson's nerves at all.

He looked like he would have a heart attack when the front doorbell rang and Alfred came down from answering it to announce that the police were here, and they wanted to see Mr. Barrow.

Jimmy was sitting at the table, polishing the silver platters when Alfred broke the news.

"What have you done!" he hissed through clenched teeth at the tall footman.

"Nothing, I didn't call them this time," Alfred mouthed back at him.

"I'll get Mr. Barrow," Jimmy said rising from his seat. Whatever was happening, he wanted to get to Thomas first and warn him.

"You'll do nothing of the sort James. Sit down and finish your work. I'll get him." Mr. Carson boomed. He was furious and Jimmy sat down quietly and picked up the polishing cloth again. "Where is he?" the old butler demanded.

"Serving tea to Mr. Branson in the library," Ivy offered, when nobody else wanted to say.

"Tea is not served in the library!" Mr. Carson roared. "What is happening in this house? Has civilization completely abandoned us?"

Mr. Carson flew up the stairs faster than any of them knew he could move. He strode across the entrance hall, ignoring the two officers standing just inside the front door where Alfred had told them to wait.

"What is the meaning of this Thomas? You of all people should know that tea is served in the drawing room."

"That'll be my fault Mr. Carson," Tom Branson piped up, his head appearing over a stack of papers on His Lordship's desk. "I'm working my way through the estate papers and I didn't want to drag the whole lot into the drawing room with me."

"Very well Sir," Carson said with an impatient cough. This is what happened when uppity revolutionaries came through the front door, standards and traditions went out the back, Mr. Carson thought to himself.

"Thomas you're wanted downstairs," he barked at the under-butler who had been standing near the window unloading a silver tray of tea things. "The police are here to see you."

Both Tom Branson and Thomas looked up in surprise. "Why?" asked Thomas incredulously. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Clearly the authorities think you have." Mr. Carson retorted.

Far be it from him to question His Lordship's wishes, but when the Earl had insisted that 'The Incident' between Thomas and James, as Carson liked to refer to it, be overlooked and Thomas be allowed to stay on, the senior butler had seriously questioned his policy to never speak his mind to the Earl. He knew keeping Thomas on would bring trouble, and now here it was, waiting in the shape of policemen at the front door.

"Bring them in here," Tom Branson suddenly said. "Let's hear what they have to say."

"If you'll forgive me Sir," Mr. Carson began, "I don't think it's fitting for members of the police force to be in the His Lordship's library. I don't believe they should even have been admitted by the front door. They should have used the tradesman's entrance at the back."

Tom Branson tried hard to hide his smile. "I think what the Earl doesn't know won't cause him any harm. Bring them in."

"As you wish Sir," Mr. Carson gave a small bow, but the tension in his voice made it clear that he was not happy about it.

When the policemen entered the library, Tom Branson was standing next to Thomas in the middle of the room. Thomas stood regally as he always did on duty, his hands clasped in front of him, his head held high, a look of disdain on his face. Tom Branson's stance was more relaxed, but his body language made it clear that they presented a united front. If the police thought they had business with one of Downton's staff, they'd have to get through the high walls of the family first.

Thomas looked calm, but inside his heart was racing and his mind flying through every memory of the last few days. He'd done nothing wrong. Yes, Jimmy had spent a lot of time alone with him, but he hadn't touched him, hadn't tried to do anything to him. Every cherished caress had come from Jimmy. There was a tightness in the pit of his stomach when he thought how upset Jimmy had been the day before when Daisy had burst into the room. He'd been about to tell Thomas something, but since then the whole household had been so busy that they'd not had a moment to talk privately. He'd only managed to pull Jimmy aside for a second to tell him they needed to finish that conversation, but Jimmy had given him the slip for the rest of the day. Thomas was cursing himself for not insisting that they find the time to talk, and kicking himself for falling exhausted into his bed last night instead of going to Jimmy's room to find out what was the matter with him.

A terrible thought occurred to him. Had Jimmy done something wrong? Was he in trouble? Had he been trying to ask for Thomas' help? Maybe it was Alfred, had he called the police again? His mind was reeling with worry. Was O'Brien still meddling even from the far away distance of Scotland? Was she that vindictive? Or that clever? Thomas didn't put anything past her. Or was it Daisy, did she think she'd seen more than she had?

"How can we be of assistance gentlemen?" Tom Branson spoke first.

The younger policeman stood at the door, the elder one strode into the room, much annoyed at having been kept waiting. This wasn't the first time he'd been called out on a case involving a member of Downton's staff, the very same man as now if his memory served him correctly. And he was in no mood to have his time wasted again. He announced himself as Inspector Lewis and his partner as Constable Brown. He looked Mr. Branson up and down, gave him a dismissive toss of his head, then stared straight at Thomas, taking in the cuts and bruises on his face.

"You'll be Mr. Thomas Barrow then?"

"With powers of deduction like that you'll be promoted to Detective soon," Thomas sneered at him.

"You were mugged at the Thirsk Country Fair on Friday?" the Inspector asked, ignoring Thomas' jibe.

"What's it to you?" Thomas glared at him.

"While we haven't been able to apprehend the culprits, we have managed to recover this, which I assume belongs to you?"

He handed Thomas a gold pocket watch and chain. Thomas smiled at the sight of it, he had never expected to see it again. He'd been indignant when the thugs had taken his money, not that he'd had much on him, but when they ripped the watch from his waistcoat he'd been furious and lashed out blindly, hooking one of them a good shot to the jaw. It earned him a kick in the ribs and another in the back.

"Where did you find it?" Mr. Branson asked.

"In the bushes near the river," the Inspector replied. "I expect they discarded it when they saw the family crest and inscription, probably knew they wouldn't be able to sell it with that making it so easily recognised."

Thomas turned the watch over in his hands and rubbed his thumb over the Grantham crest engraved on the front, then he pushed the lever and the front sprung open. He looked at the inscription that he'd read a hundred times before. _Thomas Barrow, for ten years of loyal service._ Thomas was not a sentimental man, but the watch was gold and it was the most valuable thing he had ever owned. He was glad to have it back.

"That's very good of you to see that it was returned," Tom Branson said, giving the policeman the same dismissive look he had received. "Mr. Carson will see you out."

"We can see ourselves out thank you very much," Inspector Lewis huffed and marched straight past Mr. Carson and out the library door.

Mr. Carson stared after them in disbelief. "Constables in His Lordship's library, whatever next?" he muttered as he left the room.

"Oh it wasn't all as bad as that Mr. Carson," Tom Branson called after him. "One of them was an Inspector."

Thomas couldn't help but smirk.

"Well that's at least something Thomas, I'm glad you've got your watch back," Tom said.

"It's Mr. Barrow now Sir, but yes, I'm glad I've got it back too." Thomas replied.

Tom rolled his eyes and turned back to the stack of papers on the desk.

Jimmy was waiting anxiously at the bottom of the kitchen stairs with Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes behind him. Mr. Carson just had time to tell them about the returned watch when a convoy of cars and waggons came rolling up the driveway.

The family were home and the house was in full swing again.

To be continued…..


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Jimmy spent the rest of the day and most of the evening lugging suitcases and trunks into the house and up the stairs. He had no idea how so few people could need so much baggage for a two week stay. He wondered if they'd even used half the stuff they'd hauled halfway up the country and back again. And what did they even need a holiday for? Their entire lives were a holiday.

His feet were killing him and by the time the family sat down to dinner he was so tired he thought he would fall asleep standing up. He didn't even argue when Alfred grabbed the meat platter and left him to carry the sauce. Oh stop chattering and hurry up and bloody eat, he willed the family silently, but they talked on and on about the new baby and drank endless toasts to Matthew. As he listened half-heartedly, he heard Mr. Crawley gush about how wonderful his son was and how proud of Mary he was. The others couldn't wait to see the new addition to the family and arrangements were made for everybody to drive up to the hospital in the middle of the next morning. Matthew said he'd go in early before breakfast to see Mary so that he could be back in time to meet with Mr. Murray, who was coming up from London to discuss estate business.

By the time Jimmy got up to bed he was feeling shattered, he barely managed a smile when Thomas knocked quietly on his door.

"You look as bad I feel," Thomas smiled. "Look I think the excitement will have died down by tomorrow. After dinner let's go into the village for a drink."

"I'd like that," Jimmy said and waved him goodnight.

0o0

The muted shouts penetrated his sleep first, then the sounds of doors opening and closing woke Thomas up. He pulled himself upright, a day on his feet had worked the stiffness out of his muscles, the bruises were the only thing that still hurt now. He rubbed his eyes and listened carefully, there was definitely a commotion in the corridor. Pulling a dressing gown over his pyjamas, he padded barefoot into the hallway to see what was going on.

The door to Jimmy's room was open, two of the hall boys were hovering and Mr. Carson was standing with dishevelled hair in the doorway of the footman's room. The muffled cries were coming from inside the room

"What's going on?" Mr. Carson demanded.

"It's Jimmy, he's having a nightmare. I'm trying to wake him up." Alfred's voice floated through the door.

Thomas ran over but Mr. Carson wouldn't let him pass. He craned his neck to see, but all he could make out in the dim light was the back of Alfred's head and his hand on Jimmy's shoulder, shaking him vigorously.

"Come on Jimmy, wake up!" Alfred was saying, and eventually Thomas saw those beautiful blue eyes blink open and Jimmy yelped in fright at the figure looming over him.

"What's going on?" he shouted, arms flailing and legs kicking at the covers.

''It's alright, you've just had a bad dream." Alfred said, grabbing his wrists and holding them tightly.

"I had a nightmare?" Jimmy seemed confused.

"I believe you did James," Mr. Carson said from the doorway. "And now that it's over we'd all like to get back to sleep."

"Oh thank God," Jimmy sighed, and sank back in his bed. Then he looked at Alfred with wide eyes and twisted his head towards Mr. Carson in the doorway. "Thomas... Mr. Barrow I mean... he was in my dream."

A low rumbling sound came from Mr. Carson's throat. "Well I can see why that would have been a nightmare then."

Thomas shot him a look.

"Where is he? Is he alright?" Jimmy's eyes darted around the room looking for the handsome face of the dark-haired under-butler, but he couldn't find him. "Is he alright?" he asked again.

Mr. Carson turned his head to look at Thomas, his eyes flicked down the length of Thomas' body. "I doubt Thomas has ever been entirely quite alright, but if you mean has any harm come to him, then no it hasn't."

Jimmy was quieter now and Alfred went back to his own room. Mr. Carson closed Jimmy's door and shooed the hall boys back to bed, then he turned to go back to his own room, but not before furrowing his thick eyebrows at Thomas and giving him a look that said, _I'm watching you._

Thomas couldn't sleep, he paced the floor lighting one cigarette after another but only smoking half of it before stubbing it out and lighting the next one. He waited as long as he could, but eventually he could take it no more and he tiptoed back to Jimmy's room and opened the door quietly. Jimmy was awake and reached out a hand to him as soon as he saw him.

"I had the most awful dream. I dreamed those policemen took you away. I couldn't find you, but I could hear them assaulting you. I heard your cries, it was terrible. I couldn't help you."

"I'm safe, nothing's happened to me," Thomas said as he wedged a chair under the handle of Jimmy's door. He wasn't taking a chance of that great galoot Alfred walking in again. "Do you want some water?"

Jimmy shook his head, but he still looked troubled.

Thomas sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed Jimmy's hair off his forehead with a gentle fingertip. He was trying to think of something soothing to say, when Jimmy suddenly sat up and flung his arms around him. Thomas jerked back but Jimmy held him in a tight hug. Slowly, hesitantly, Thomas folded his arms around Jimmy's body and buried his face in that soft blond hair, breathing in the sleepy scent of him.

"Have you always known that you prefer men?" Jimmy's face was pressed to Thomas' neck and his voice was so soft that Thomas felt it against his ear more than he heard it.

"What do you mean?" he asked in return, still holding Jimmy tightly and pressing his mouth to the top of his head in a light kiss.

"I always thought I was normal," Jimmy said, his lips brushing against the skin of Thomas' neck as he spoke. "I like girls, I always have, but when I was around fourteen I started to notice boys too. I started to see things in them... things I liked... things that attracted me..." he spoke hesitantly, almost fearfully.

Thomas rubbed his thumb across the back of Jimmy's neck reassuringly. It calmed the younger man and he continued.

"I never gave it much thought, it didn't worry me. I'd just walk down the street and see a pretty girl and think how much I liked her eyes, and then I'd see a boy, and think how handsome he was, how much I liked the angle of his jaw or the way his jacket sat on his shoulders."

"Beauty can be found in many things Jimmy." Thomas said softly. "People find beauty in art, in nature, even in music. It doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with you."

Jimmy seemed to be pulling himself back and Thomas reluctantly loosened his grip, letting his arms fall away. But Jimmy didn't move back too far, instead he straightened and looked Thomas in the eye.

"But I started thinking about other things too, like what it would feel like to … to touch a boy or … kiss him. I'd kissed girls and put my arms around them but … well... I wondered what it would feel like to feel muscular arms around me instead of soft ones, or if a touching stubble on a chin would feel nicer than smooth skin. I started to think about how different it would be to kiss a boy than a girl. And I wasn't just thinking about it, I wanted to do it. I couldn't understand what was happening to me. My friends were stepping out with girls and I did too, but I'd much rather have spent my time in male company."

"I can't speak for every man," Thomas started carefully, "But I think it's fairly normal to notice other men at some point or other in your life. Often you'll see a man walking in the village and think how good he looks in his suit. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you, it's just a fleeting thought. Women do it all the time. How many times have you served at dinner and heard Her Ladyship say how beautiful so-and-so's daughter is, or Lady Mary comment that she met an old acquaintance in London and how gorgeous that girl had grown up to be? They say it all the time, even the Dowager Countess said that the late Miss Swires was a beautiful girl with a very attractive figure."

"Yes but Lady Mary might say so-and-so has blossomed into a beauty but you don't hear her talk about how much she'd like to kiss her or get a look at what's inside her corset do you?"

"Certainly not at the dinner table no," Thomas smiled.

"What, really? Do you think Lady Mary….?"

"No, not at all," Thomas laughed, "The only woman Lady Mary is in love with is herself."

Thomas waited to see if Jimmy would say anything else, but he seemed to be thinking about something, absent-mindedly chewing his bottom lip.

"The thing is Jimmy, a lot of men have those thoughts. You heard Lord Grantham at the cricket match, and what he said about Eton? If he screamed blue bloody murder every time a boy tried to kiss him at school, he'd have been hoarse in no time. A lot of men think about it and some choose to act on it. I've known quite a few who tried it out just to see if it suited them better than being with a woman. It's just something that happens I suppose, but finding something attractive about another man doesn't doom you for life. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"That's what I used to think too, but it _is_ shameful," Jimmy said, "Remember that scandal in the papers a few years back, Lord Blakemore getting caught with that boy in the alley behind the King's Arms? People talked about it, they said how vile it was, what a sin it was. How men like that would go to hell, how they should rot in prison, or be publically strung up and whipped. People hated men like that, and it scared me because I was like that, and I couldn't tell anybody about it. I began to worry that I'd let it slip, that I'd say something and give myself away or talk in my sleep or … even worse maybe I didn't have to say anything at all, maybe they would just look at me and know."

Thomas' heart raged at the injustice of the world they lived in, he hated that society's prejudices had caused Jimmy so much confusion and fear. He slowly lifted his hand and touched the side of Jimmy's face.

"Then I went to work for Lady Anstruther," Jimmy continued, tilting his head into Thomas' palm. "She moved in very artistic circles, she was a bit eccentric herself and the artists and poets, and theatrical types flocked to her. Her 'nancyboys' she called them. And that's when I thought I was alright. They were all men of certain tastes and they didn't try to hide it, in fact they showed it off and I thought, _phew_, I'm not like that after all. They minced and flounced and were painted and primped. I disliked them and I was relieved that I was nothing like them. I was glad because it meant I was normal. You see, I thought all men who preferred other men were like Lady Anstruther's troop of painted fairies, and because I wasn't like them, it meant I was normal."

"Don't judge us all by those foppish mollies," Thomas said. He'd come across the type and they made his skin crawl.

"That's just the thing," Jimmy said. "I did judge and I felt vindicated because I was so unlike them. Until I arrived here I didn't even know that homosexual men..." he looked relieved to have finally said the word, "... could be so manly and strong and … well... normal."

"We are normal," Thomas said. He hated being judged abnormal by society because of the sexual preference he had. He was different, yes, he'd concede to that, but he wasn't abnormal.

"I know," Jimmy said, "I didn't mean it that way... I just meant..." he couldn't find the right words, but the way Thomas was looking at him told Jimmy that he understood. "When you made that pass at me it terrified me, not because you tried to kiss me, but because I wanted you to. I had to finally admit it to myself and it scared the life out of me. _You_ scared the life out of me because you are so like me, you look like a man, you talk like a man, you act like a man. If you hadn't tried to flirt with me and kiss me I'd never have thought you were anything other than a red-blooded man. You have such an aura of masculinity about you, you're so strong, you're... just... such a … man."

Jimmy blushed furiously, he had no idea if he was making any sense or if Thomas had a clue what he was talking about, but there was a smile starting to form at the corners of Thomas' mouth.

"I'm such a man am I?" Thomas was grinning at him now. "I seem to remember you telling me at the fair that the tug-of-war would be, what were your words? Too strong for me?"

Jimmy groaned out loud and slumped forward, his forehead coming to rest against Thomas' chest. He stayed there for a moment then straightened up again.

"I feel so badly for the way I treated you this last year, I've said such insulting things to you, and I've made such terrible fun of you. I'm so sorry, I didn't do it to hurt you, I did it because you made me face something about myself that I didn't want to admit. You made me realize that the thoughts and feelings I had were real, and I couldn't ignore them because they weren't going to go away. It frightened me. I saw what happened to you, how you nearly lost your job and got turned out of Downton. And how you almost went to prison, just because you'd dared to hope for love. I was terrified of having to live the rest of my life in secret and shame in case the same thing happened to me too. I am so ashamed of being responsible for what happened to you Thomas. It never should have gone so far... and it would never have if my fear of being ostracised and my pride hadn't got in the way."

"Oh Jimmy..." There was a tightening in Thomas' chest, he had to take a deep breath to stop his throat constricting and the prickle behind his eyes told him that tears wouldn't be far behind.

"Do you know what scared me more than being found out?" Jimmy said, pulling Thomas back from his thoughts. "It was that I knew if I was discovered, I wouldn't have the dignity and strength that you had to hold your head up high. I heard you in Mr. Carson's office, I was right outside the door when he called you foul. I would have sunk in defeat but you were magnificent, you stood up to him, you stood your ground with dignity, you didn't let him take your self-respect or pride. I could never have handled it the way you did. You're twice the man that I'll ever be."

Thomas couldn't speak, tears were spilling down his cheeks and his throat was so tight that no words would come out. He pulled Jimmy to him, crushing him to his chest and let the sobs that he had held in for so long wash over him, leaving him shaken but finally at peace.

This was what Jimmy had been trying to tell him the other day in his room, Thomas thought. This is what had unsettled him and upset him so much. He'd been wanting to apologise, but more than that, so much more. He had wanted pour out all his worries and fears, he had wanted to tell Thomas his terrifying secret. It broke Thomas' heart to think of all the anxiety Jimmy had suffered, all the feelings he'd supressed and kept hidden, but at the same time his heart was singing to finally hear Jimmy's halting confession. It meant that there was hope. Hope of something more. Something more than just friendship.

When they eventually separated, Thomas' eyes were puffy and his cheeks wet. He blinked until he could see clearly again and found Jimmy staring right back at him, then he felt Jimmy take his hands and hold them tightly.

"Can you forgive me?" he searched Thomas' face with pleading eyes.

"Of course."

Thomas closed his eyes as Jimmy leaned towards him and held his breath as their mouths met. His hands slid up Jimmy's arms, dragging on the sleeves of his nightshirt, skimming over his neck to cup his face. The warmth of Jimmy's mouth pressed to his made Thomas long for more. He carefully prodded the seam of Jimmy's lips with the tip of his tongue, cautiously seeking entry. He could have cried out with joy when he felt the boy's lips slowly yield to him. The heat of his mouth was incredible, Thomas never wanted to let him go. He opened his own mouth wider and let their tongues slide together. There was purpose to Jimmy's hands as they slid up his arms, over his chest, and around his back, holding him tightly. Their chests pressed together, he could feel Jimmy's heart racing, its rhythm matching his own thumping pulse. Then Jimmy's tongue was moving, caressing his. His head was spinning, he felt like he'd been sucked into a whirlpool. Nothing existed anymore, not the house, nor the family, only Jimmy. Fingers were grasping at him, pulling at his nightshirt, hands snaking up his back, fingertips stroking his skin, nails pressing into his flesh.

Thomas was seeing stars, sparks of white light flashed behind his eyelids. His hands marvelled at the feel of Jimmy's body, his fingertips tingling with the long-denied need to touch him. Their mouths were still locked together, their tongues still playing with each other when Thomas felt a small shift, a tugging sensation, the slip of their tongues, the pull of his bottom lip into Jimmy's mouth, and Jimmy sucking on it. Then suddenly the kiss was broken and he felt Jimmy's hand clamped over his mouth. Thomas opened his eyes.

In front of him was Jimmy's beautiful face, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling in the dim lamplight. Only then did Thomas realize how loudly he had been moaning.

"Ssshhh..." Jimmy motioned with a finger pressed to his own lips as he let his other hand drop from Thomas' mouth.

He gazed at Thomas with steady, unblinking eyes, the taste of him still in his mouth, the flavour of cigarettes and toothpaste lingering on his tongue. He pushed his blanket back and shifted his body to the side of his small bed.

"I want you to stay with me tonight," he said. "I want it to be what it should have been the first time."

But Thomas was shaking his head slowly.

"I need you to be completely sure. You've just told me how afraid you are of a life hidden in the shadows. I don't want to be the reason you live the rest of your life looking over your shoulder. I think you've struggled with confusing feelings these past few days, I know you feel badly about what O'Brien made you do. I know you feel guilty about all of _this_..." Thomas pointed to his injured face. "But I want you to know Jimmy that you are not responsible for what happened, you don't owe me anything. I don't want you giving me what you think I want just because you feel obligated."

Jimmy leaned forward placing his hand on the side of Thomas' face and stroked his thumb across his lips. He watched as Thomas kissed it then sucked it into his mouth. He felt Thomas' teeth scrape against it and his tongue swirl around it.

"I'm not giving you what I think you want," Jimmy said in a hushed voice, "I'm asking you to give me what I want."

He stroked Thomas' cheek as he pulled his hand back, his eyes remaining locked on Thomas' face while he reached for the hem of his nightshirt and pulled it off over his head, dropping it on the floor. Then he lay down and waited.

Thomas found himself in the same position he had been that night over a year ago, sitting on the edge of Jimmy's bed, an arm stretched out over him, leaning down, looking at him. But this time Jimmy was looking back at him, with complete and utter trust in his eyes.

He straightened just long enough to pull his own shirt off, then lowered himself down, closing his eyes as his mouth met Jimmy's again, their lips softly parting. The kiss was long and slow, a meeting of the heart as much as a physical one. He caressed Jimmy's face slowly and raked his fingertips through Jimmy's hair, while the beautiful blond below him traced loving hands up his arms, down his back and along his chest, learning the feel of him. When the kiss ended he heard Jimmy sigh softly. Then Thomas climbed into the small bed with him and pulled the covers over both of them. He'd never been happier in his life.

0o0

The following morning found Thomas back in his own bed having crept to his room before the rest of the household woke up. They had done nothing more than kiss and hold each other. They had talked for a long time, and eventually they had slept, Thomas on his back, Jimmy curled up against his side, an arm flung over his chest and his face buried in Thomas' neck.

Sitting at the breakfast table, Thomas smiled at him over the rim of his teacup and Jimmy looked radiantly happy as he spread jam on his toast. Even Mrs. Hughes noticed that he had a glow about him.

"You look very cheerful this morning James," she said with a smile.

"I trust you are over your nightmares and had a good night's sleep?" Mr. Carson asked, staring down the table at him and fixing a glare on Thomas.

"I did indeed Mr. Carson," Jimmy replied "A very good night, with very sweet dreams."

"Oh was I in your dreams then?" Thomas asked, a glint in his eye as he took another sip of tea.

Mr. Carson coughed loudly and disapprovingly. "I don't like where this conversation is going," he said. "I don't find this a suitable topic for the breakfast table."

The staff giggled, even Mrs. Hughes had a little chuckle behind her hand, but a second later the jovial mood was shattered by the sound of a woman's scream echoing from upstairs. They all rose to their feet and started moving to the doorway.

"Stay here all of you. I'll go and find out what's going on," Mr. Carson said.

When he came downstairs again he found the servants still standing at the bottom of the kitchen stairs looking up at him. His face was ashy white and wearing an expression of shock and disbelief when he told them the news.

"There has been a motor vehicle accident, Mr. Crawley has been killed."

To be continued…..


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

The silence that settled over the house was heavy. The grief was almost tangible. The maids who usually chatted happily as they went about their daily work were quiet as they moved unseen from room to room.

But Jimmy felt at odds with the mourning house. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself whistling a happy tune as he went about his duties. The family had asked that lunch be served early, and since Mr. Carson was still adamant that Thomas was in no fit state to be seen in public, only Jimmy and Alfred went up to the dining room. Almost every platter of food they offered had been refused. Only the Earl and Mr. Branson had eaten, and even then only a little. The ladies had barely touched their plates and as soon as the meal was over, Lady Edith and the Countess had left to visit Lady Mary at the hospital. From what Jimmy had heard of their conversation, Mary was inconsolable. The Dowager Countess had said she would call on Mrs. Crawley, while the Earl had asked Mr. Branson to accompany him to the library to discuss the funeral arrangements which had to be made.

Jimmy and Alfred carried the platters of uneaten food back to the kitchen where they found Thomas smoking a cigarette with a cup of tea and a newspaper spread out on the table in front of him. The two footmen joined him and shared the snippets of conversation they had heard during lunch. Alfred watched in surprise as Jimmy picked up Thomas' cup of tea and took a mouthful. He was even more shocked when Mr. Barrow's only reaction was to flick his ash into the saucer and turn the page of his newspaper.

That evening at the servant's dinner, Mrs. Hughes thought it would be nice if they all shared some happy memories of Mr. Crawley. There were a few amusing tales to tell of his first visit to Downton which seemed like so many years ago, and some sad stories of his heartbreak at losing Lavinia and his service in the war. Thomas told of their time in the trenches of the Somme and recounted how they had literally bumped into each other in the midst of all the chaos, and how they had shared a cup of tea and talked through a long dark night. Daisy recounted her story of what Mr. Crawley had done for William after he was injured in battle, and how Mr. Mason had always been grateful to Mr. Crawley that his son had been able to die at home, surrounded by those who loved him, and be buried in England instead of alone in the cloying mud of France.

Jimmy noticed a subtle change in Thomas as he shared his story of Matthew. It seemed that his memories had taken him back to a faraway place that he had long wished to forget. When Daisy spoke of William, and everybody's attention was focused on her, Jimmy who was sitting next to Thomas, slid his hand over to Thomas' leg under the table, and gave his thigh a gentle squeeze. It brought back the memory of when Thomas had done the same to his hand under the table after Lady Sybil had passed away. He watched Thomas out of the corner of his eye and realized that the two people in the Crawley family that had shown Thomas the most kindness were now both gone.

By the time they finished talking the mood was sombre. Mrs Hughes thought the boys might ask permission to go to the village pub, but when they didn't, she fetched a bottle of sherry from her sitting room and they all drank a small toast to Mr. Crawley's memory.

Thomas swallowed his drink in a single mouthful, stubbed out his cigarette and said goodnight. It was a long half hour that Jimmy sat watching the clock after Thomas went up to bed. He played a game of cards with Alfred, but neither of their hearts were in it and they gave up after a few hands. Slowly each of the maids said goodnight and went up. Anna and Mr. Bates left and walked with Mrs. Patmore to their cottages. Finally Jimmy said goodnight and climbed the steps up to the attic rooms. He undressed and washed, heard Alfred's door close and listened to the heavy footsteps of Mr. Carson going into his own room. Wearing just his pyjama bottoms he shrugged into his dressing gown and quietly opened his door, tiptoeing to Thomas' room.

He found the under-butler sitting on the edge of his bed wearing stripy bottoms and a tight under-shirt that clung to his torso and upper arms. He was hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, a cigarette clasped between his fingers. Only the bedside lamp was on and it illuminated the room with a soft, warm glow. Thomas turned his head as Jimmy entered and the corners of his mouth lifted in a sad smile.

"I'm glad that day's over," Jimmy said, coming to a stop in front of Thomas who sat up straighter as Jimmy wedged himself between his knees.

"Tomorrow won't be any easier," Thomas told him, lifting his cigarette to his lips to free up his hands. He looked up at Jimmy's face through the rising plume of smoke and tugged on the cord of his dressing gown. It opened to reveal Jimmy's smooth, flat belly. Thomas' hands slid around the back of Jimmy's thighs pulling him a step closer. His eyes were level with Jimmy's navel but his gaze was lowered a few inches to where the waistband of Jimmy's pyjamas sat low on his hips.

The smoke stung Thomas' eyes and he blinked, still holding the cigarette between his lips. He felt Jimmy's fingers caressing his jaw, then gently brushing against his mouth as they closed around the end of the butt. He took a deep draw as Jimmy took the cigarette from his mouth. He held the smoke in his lungs for a moment, enjoying the burn at the back of his throat, then blew it out against Jimmy's stomach as he leaned forward and kissed the smooth skin an inch below his bellybutton. As he leaned back, Jimmy held the cigarette back to his lips and Thomas took another long drag before Jimmy stubbed it out in the ashtray on the bedside table. Exhaling the smoke, Thomas tugged at the sleeves of Jimmy's robe, it slipped down his shoulders and Thomas let it fall to the floor. His hands roamed up the back of Jimmy's legs caressing him through the thin material of his pyjamas, his nose nuzzled against Jimmy's belly, then his lips parted and he slowly licked the warm, soft skin he found there. He felt Jimmy's hands slipping down his back, his shirt bunching between the footman's fingers as he pulled it upwards. Thomas lifted his arms and Jimmy pulled it off over his head.

He longed to kiss Jimmy's gorgeous mouth but for now he was content to return his attention to the pretty blond's stomach as he opened his mouth and placed a loose-lipped kiss, first on one side of his navel, then the other. He could feel Jimmy's fingers slowly massaging his shoulders as he moved his mouth lower, dragging his lips and then this tongue down Jimmy's belly to the waistband of his pyjamas. With the tip of his finger he dragged the material lower, exposing first one hipbone then the other, and kissing each one in turn. Jimmy was starting to breathe faster and Thomas felt the boy's fingers digging into his upper arms. He was aware that Jimmy was becoming aroused, he could see material at the front of his pyjamas starting to fill out and he let his hands wander up Jimmy's legs until his fingers touched the exposed flesh of his hips. He ran his thumbs over the protruding rise of hipbones and licked a wet trail across the skin of his stomach. Then he moved his head downwards and let his lips skim over the material covering the shape of Jimmy's swelling cock. He heard the hitch in Jimmy's breath.

"Beautiful," Thomas said with wonder, as much to himself as to Jimmy as he slowly rubbed his hand against the material, feeling Jimmy's shaft lengthen and harden under his palm. "This is all mine," he murmured against Jimmy's cock.

"Oh God..." was all Jimmy could say when Thomas rubbed his mouth against it and carefully nipped with soft lips through his pyjamas. His cock was fully hard now and straining against the material. For a fleeting moment he thought he should be embarrassed at his eager arousal, but he found it daring and exciting to have his body show how much it was enjoying the attention it was receiving.

Thomas was in heaven. His hands ran up the back of Jimmy's thighs to his bottom, kneading his cheeks. He pressed his lips to Jimmy's stomach, tracing circles around his navel with his tongue. He heard Jimmy's breath coming faster as he slowly lifted himself from the bed, his lips never breaking contact with Jimmy's skin. Kissing and licking a wet trail up his torso to his chest, Thomas' hands moved to Jimmy's sides and his fingertips traced every rise and valley of his ribs. When his mouth closed over one of the footman's nipples he heard Jimmy gasp as he worked the tip of his tongue over it. He felt it pucker as he gently grazed it with his teeth. Jimmy's nails dug into Thomas' skin and goosebumps rose on his flesh. Thomas moved his mouth to the other nipple as Jimmy's fingers began to scratch gently up his neck and thread through his hair.

When Thomas lifted his eyes to Jimmy's face his heart thumped at what he saw. Jimmy's eyes were closed, his head tilted back, his luscious lips parted and his cheeks looked flushed. Thomas couldn't resist him any longer, he straightened and snaked his hands around the back of Jimmy's neck, pulling his head in for a long, sensual kiss. The heat of Jimmy's mouth made him tremble with happiness, but it was the speed at which Jimmy responded to him, wrapping his arms around Thomas' body and thrusting his tongue into his mouth, that made Thomas pull him closer and kiss him harder.

When they broke apart they were panting. Thomas was grinning and Jimmy couldn't pull his eyes away from the man's beautiful face. He couldn't believe the effect he was having on Thomas, he knew that the under-butler found him attractive but the way Thomas was looking at him spoke of pure adoration and devotion. He was amazed at the usually guarded man's ability to show love. As they held each other's gaze, Jimmy's hands found their way to Thomas' chest and his fingers rubbed through the soft, dark hair that covered it. It felt different to his own smooth skin, but he enjoyed the sensation of it under his hands, and even more on his lips, when he bent his head to kiss it. He felt Thomas' hands rubbing his back, moving up and down sensually. It tickled but it felt good. When his fingers moved to Thomas' nipples and he carefully raked his nails over them, he felt the taller man's fingers dig into his back and heard the soft purr in Thomas' throat. Lifting his head, Jimmy opened his mouth for another hungry kiss. Their bodies pressing together, Jimmy felt the hard heat of Thomas' erection sliding against his hip as they rocked gently against each other. The kiss went on while their hands explored, and when their wet lips finally broke apart Jimmy glanced down at the tented front to Thomas' bottoms. He was aroused by the sight but a little nervous too. Thomas looked very big and while Jimmy hadn't actually been with a man before, he knew the mechanics of what had to happen. He wasn't sure his body could take all of Thomas' cock.

Thomas' eyes followed his gaze and he saw the concern reflected on Jimmy's face. He tilted his head, placed a kiss on Jimmy's forehead, another on the tip of his nose, and a third on his mouth.

"I won't do anything until you're completely ready my love," he said, running a finger a down Jimmy's chin.

My love...

The endearment sounded strange coming from a man, but it made Jimmy's heart flutter. He gazed at Thomas and saw the raw emotion in his eyes. Like a veil lifting he understood that a whole new world had just opened to him. How could this be the male love that the world saw as disgusting and unnatural? What Thomas was offering him was not the quick rutting of anonymous bodies in a dark, dirty alleyway, this was love, as pure and real and honest as any between a man and woman. He wished the world could see them now, all the people like Mr. Carson who thought they were foul, all the lawmakers that said their love was illegal. How could this possibly be wrong? How could society want punish a man like Thomas for the feelings he had in his heart?

"You are beautiful," Jimmy whispered. They were not words he ever imagined he would say to a man, he had never even said them to a girl. But in that moment he knew he had never meant them more.

Thomas answered him with a smile so bright that Jimmy thought his insides might melt. He felt Thomas' hands gently turning him, pushing him towards the bed. He yanked the covers back and lay down, shifting his body to make room for the gorgeous man who stretched out next to him.

Their eyes met for a moment and Thomas held his gaze before their mouths joined in a passionate kiss. Lips twisted, hands roamed, and bodies writhed together. Jimmy's back arched up in need every time that Thomas broke their kiss to look down at him. Thomas' hand teased, caressing all the way down Jimmy's stomach, a fingertip dipping into his navel and running along his lower belly, along the band of material circling Jimmy's hips. Every time Jimmy thought Thomas' hand would go where he wanted it to go, it slowly, torturously started inching its way back up his torso. It was blissful and maddening at the same time. He showed his frustration with soft bites to Thomas lip and the frantic action of his tongue pushing against Thomas' own, running across the roof of his mouth and tracing the line of his teeth, but still Thomas denied him.

Jimmy was mewling with frustration, when Thomas pulled away from another frantic kiss and ran his tongue over Jimmy's lips.

"Does my bonny Princess want something?" Thomas purred with a wicked glint in his eye.

"You know what I want." Jimmy hissed through clenched teeth as he tried hard to control his body.

"Say it," Thomas' voice was a low sexy rumble, coming from deep in his chest. "I want to hear you ask for it."

For just an instant Jimmy clamped his lips together stubbornly, but when Thomas' tongue circled his ear and he felt the under-butler's teeth gently nip at his neck, he let go of his pride and spoke.

"Touch me," he whimpered.

"Where?" Thomas breathed into his ear as he licked it again.

"Damn you!" Jimmy hissed, and grabbed Thomas' wrist, forcing his hand downwards until his fingers were cupped around Jimmy's achingly hard arousal.

The sound Thomas made came from somewhere deep inside him. He watched every nuance of Jimmy's expression as he started to rub him through the soft material. His fingers felt the slippery heat of the wet patch where Jimmy's desperately needy cock leaked its slick essence. Their mouths crushed together as Jimmy bucked wantonly against his hand. It was more than Thomas could take, he yanked the material down, felt Jimmy lift his hips to assist as he pulled the pyjama bottoms all the way down his legs and off him, abandoning them in a tangle somewhere at the end of the tiny bed.

"So perfect," Thomas husked as his gaze fell on Jimmy's finally naked body, his eyes brushing glances up and down the slender, creamy-pale length of him.

His fingers itched for contact with Jimmy's skin and when Thomas ran his hand up a bare thigh, letting his fingertips linger in that crease where Jimmy's leg met his torso, he found the skin was even smoother and softer than it looked. His mouth found Jimmy's neck and alternated tender kisses with hungry, nipping bites. His hand smoothed over Jimmy's stomach feeling the way he shivered and trembled with need.

"Please…" Jimmy puffed out the word on a desperate breath.

Thomas licked along his jawline as he hand slid lower and finally claimed its prize. He was rewarded with a low, grateful moan when his hand at last touched Jimmy's bare flesh.

With teeth gritted against the desperate need to cry out, Jimmy found his hands scrabbling at the sheet beneath him when Thomas' fingers closed around his cock and started stroking with agonizing slowness up and down his length.

Thomas revelled in Jimmy's blissful torture. He loved the control he had over him, the granting or denying of pleasure was completely at his whim, and he would have kept him hovering on the brink of orgasm all night if he could, but more than anything he wanted to make Jimmy come, wanted to watch his face, hear his voice and feel his body convulsing under his touch.

He sped his movements up a little, his palm gently closing over the head of Jimmy's cock, gathering up the abundance of slippery moisture it found oozing there. He spread it down Jimmy's shaft, then stroked his hand up to gather more, repeating it until Jimmy's length was slick and wet. Then he curled his fingers around him and with a gentle squeeze, began to slowly pump the rigid flesh in his hand. His thumb carefully circled the swollen head on every upward stroke and he gently squeezed the base of Jimmy's cock with every downward pull. It was torturous and he knew it. Teasing enough to pull shivers of pleasure from Jimmy's body, but maddeningly short of what the lovely footman craved.

Jimmy was beautiful to watch as he relinquished himself to the exquisite pleasure of Thomas' hand. His eyes were closed and his mouth was incapable of speech, the only way he could communicate what he wanted was through the strangled sounds coming from his throat, and the lustful way his hips lifted to thrust himself through Thomas' fist.

Sensing his need, Thomas pumped him faster and received an appreciative whimper in return. Jimmy was glorious, abandoning himself to his need, chasing his orgasm shamelessly. Thomas sped up more, his thumb catching Jimmy's sensitive cockhead with every upward stroke. Soft cries of pleasure rewarded his efforts as he bent his head and tongued a pebble-hard nipple.

Squeezing gently and twisting his fingers with every pull, Thomas' hand wrung Jimmy's orgasm from him. With eyes clenched shut and his mouth opened in gasping breaths Jimmy surrendered to wave after wave of heaven as his climax washed over him. His final cry of ecstasy was swallowed by Thomas' lips as the dark-haired man pressed their mouths together in a rough, hungry kiss. His fingers were coated in Jimmy's slippery climax. It had erupted from him in spurting ribbons landing on Jimmy's stomach and chest. When the last shudder of pleasure finally left Jimmy's body and he lay quiet again, Thomas lovingly kissed his forehead.

"That was beautiful," Thomas whispered.

Jimmy half-opened his sated lids and smiled sleepily at Thomas. His gaze widening as he watched Thomas slowly lick the cum from his fingers. It was the most obscene, yet sexy thing he had ever seen. He could easily have closed his eyes and fallen into a deep sleep but the pressure of Thomas' hard cock jutting against his thigh pulled him from his contented stupor.

He pushed his hand down the front of Thomas' pyjama bottoms, wrapping his fingers around his length. Thomas' cock felt thick and heavy in his hand, it was the only one he'd touched other than his own but Jimmy knew exactly how to make himself feel good and he used all his favourite tricks on Thomas.

The fact that they could even be friends made Thomas' heart leap, but having Jimmy's hand on his erection was almost too much for him to bear. Stretching his arms upwards, Thomas curled his fingers around the iron rungs of the bedframe, his toes dug into the mattress and he abandoned himself to the incredible pleasure of being touched by his beautiful blond lover.

Frustrated by the confines of the material, Jimmy removed Thomas' pants and found his breath hitching at the erotic beauty of finally seeing Thomas naked and aroused. The sight of his hand wrapped around Thomas' intimate length looked more perfect than he could ever have imagined. Thomas' body still bore the evidence of the attack, the cuts had mostly healed although the bruises remained, but it did nothing to detract from the glorious sight of him stretched out and falling under the spell of Jimmy's clever hand.

"Oh God," Thomas whimpered, so close to the edge of bliss that he could feel the shooting tingles starting to ignite deep inside him.

Jimmy felt giddy with the power he had over this usually composed and self-possessed man. Thomas rarely let his guard down, but now he was allowing himself to completely surrender to Jimmy. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly opened, his breathing heavy. Jimmy shifted his position, stretching out next to Thomas, pressing close to his body. His hand never stopped its rapid movement as he stretched his neck up and closed his lips over Thomas' mouth, his tongue invading and Thomas' eagerly accepting it. With a stifled cry and a sharp thrust of his hips, Thomas was undone.

The evidence of his climax discharged over his abdomen as Jimmy's mouth slid from his, kiss-wet lips breaking into a satisfied smile. He lay gasping as he slowly unfurled his fingers from the bed frame.

"That was embarrassingly quick," Thomas panted, opening his eyes and gazing adoringly at Jimmy.

"But was it good?" Jimmy whispered softly.

"Better than you can ever imagine. And you?" Thomas asked, brushing the hair from Jimmy's forehead with a loving finger.

"It was wonderful," the young blond replied, lifting himself up on one elbow and tilting his head to look down at Thomas' face. "But don't ever call me Princess again."

Thomas laughed as he reached up to pull Jimmy down into a tight hug.

"My Prince then," he murmured against Jimmy's ear.

When they'd recovered a bit and got their breath back, they got up and went into Thomas' small bathroom. They cleaned themselves up then went back to bed, pulling the covers over them and settling comfortably into slumber. Jimmy lay on his back with Thomas at his side, his head propped on his elbow as he watched Jimmy sleep.

To be continued…..


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

Matthew's funeral was difficult for everybody, particularly Lady Mary who had to be driven to the church and helped to the graveyard afterwards. She was held upright by Mr. Branson and His Lordship, with Mr. Carson hovering nearby in case he was needed. Everybody else walked behind the horse-drawn hearse that carried Mr. Crawley's body. It seemed such a short few years ago that Mary had made her way to that same beautiful stone church to marry Matthew.

Thomas looked at the grieving faces around him, each lost in thoughts and memories of their own. So many of their own loved ones lay buried in the same churchyard that was now Matthew's eternal home. Tom Branson had lingered at Lady Sybil's grave on his way into the church and Thomas knew that he would return there after the rest of them went back to the house. Daisy had placed a small posy of flowers on William's grave, and everybody had noticed the way Lady Mary had stopped and stared at Lavinia Swires headstone as Matthew's coffin was carried from the church. The expression on her face spoke of her distress that Lavinia was once more at Matthew's side instead of her. She looked like she would give anything to trade places with her, to be swallowed by the cold, dark, musty earth of a grave, to spend forever with Matthew in death, rather than be doomed to live in the bright sunshine without him.

After the funeral, a reception was held at the village hall instead of at Downton because Lady Mary did not want to contend with crowds of people in the house. Lord Grantham called the servants together after the service and told them that they were all to take the rest of the afternoon and evening off.

Mrs. Patmore and her girls had prepared the food for the gathering at the village hall and there was much more than needed, so an impromptu picnic was arranged for the staff down by the lake on the Abbey estate.

Blankets were spread out on the grass and everyone settled in for a pleasant afternoon in the sunshine. Ivy and Daisy shared a blanket with Thomas and Jimmy. The hall boys and stable grooms sat on another, the housemaids sat together on a blanket of their own, while Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore and the Bates couple sat on folding chairs in the shade of the big oak tree. Alfred sat on the ground with them, leaning back against the great oak's trunk, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

"It feels a bit strange having a picnic after a funeral, doesn't it?" Ivy said. "It feels wrong."

"Feels perfectly fine to me," Thomas replied. "I wonder how that lot are coping having to fend for themselves while we're all out here?" he said glancing over his shoulder back towards the house. "I wonder if any of them even know how to make a cup of tea?"

"Don't be so mean," Daisy said.

She picked up slice of bread and crumbled it in her hands, then got up and walked towards the lake to feed the ducks, calling back to Ivy to join her.

"Are you coming Jimmy?" Ivy said as she stood.

He shook his head as he lay down on the picnic blanket, folding his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. He relished the freedom of an afternoon off, and the rare chance to lie back and relax instead of being on his feet all day.

Thomas watched him out of the corner of his eye, wishing he could stretch out next to him and wondering if there would ever come a time when two men could publically enjoy each other's affections or share a kiss without breaking the law. Not in his lifetime he supposed.

"This would be so much better if it was just the two of us," Jimmy said, his eyes still closed but his face turned towards Thomas.

"How would that be so?" Thomas asked, a small, teasing smile playing on his lips.

"For one thing it would be quiet and peaceful without those two girls prattling on and on,"

Daisy and Ivy hadn't stopped talking since they sat down and it was starting to give Jimmy a headache.

"How to they still find so much to talk about? They spend all day chattering in the kitchen and all their time off too, surely they must have run out of words by now?"

Thomas chuckled and agreed that the mind of a woman was an unfathomable thing.

"But how do you know I wouldn't talk just as much as them if we were alone?" he asked, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his elbows. It was as close as he dared get to lying down next to Jimmy.

"Because my mouth would be firmly pressed to yours and I would be kissing you so hard that you wouldn't be able to get any words out," Jimmy replied.

He heard the sharp intake of Thomas' breath and opened one eye a crack to see Thomas nervously looking around to see if anybody had heard, but nobody was within earshot. Thomas exhaled and relaxed. But Jimmy wasn't finished toying with him yet.

"And while I kissed you, I would undo your shirt, slowly, one button at a time, letting my fingers wander over your skin as I did it."

"Jimmy…" Thomas warned softly.

"Do you see that bowl of fruit over there?" He didn't have to open his eyes to know that Thomas had turned his gaze towards it. "I would feed that orange to you, one segment at a time, and my tongue would lick the juice that spilled down your chin. It would taste like oranges and cologne, and summer sunshine."

"_Jimmy_," Thomas' voice was sounding a little bit desperate now.

"My hands would be sticky and you would suck the juice from my fingers. I would watch you do it, I'd watch your lips as I slid my fingers in and out of your mouth. I love your lips, I have a thing about them. I love watching you when you smoke, I love the way your mouth moves. I love the way your lips hold the cigarette, I'm a bit jealous of it actually."

It sounded like a silly thing to say being jealous of a bit a paper and tobacco and ash, but Jimmy was, he wished he could be the cigarette, trapped so firmly between Thomas's lips.

"You'll be the death of me yet," was all Thomas could manage to say.

Jimmy's boldness and teasing was one thing, but the images he planted in Thomas' head were quite another. He could almost feel Jimmy's fingers sliding between his lips, almost taste the sweet citrus flavour of them. He let his gaze drift down Jimmy's body from his pretty face, turned towards the sun, eyes closed, to the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Then further down still, to where his crisp white shirt was tucked into his trousers. How Thomas longed to pluck it out, pull it up and press his lips and tongue to the soft, golden skin of Jimmy's stomach.

The sound of Thomas' breathing coming deeper and faster encouraged Jimmy. He still had more to tell Thomas about the things he wished to do with that orange and Thomas' mouth, but he heard Daisy and Ivy's voices as they approached so he sat up again, noticing that Thomas had a pleasantly pink flush to his cheeks. Their eyes met and Jimmy smiled, then his eyes moved down and he fixed his gaze on Thomas' mouth, licking his own lips as he did it. Thomas flushed a deeper shade and looked away, gazing out over the lake, turning his head to the sky, watching Daisy pour a glass of cordial for herself. He looked anywhere but at Jimmy's sinfully erotic expression.

"Ivy, be a dear and pass me that orange please," Jimmy said, flashing a charming smile.

He grinned when he heard the hiss escape from Thomas 's lips, but his expression turned to surprise when Thomas suddenly stood up, picked up his jacket and began to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Ivy called after him.

"To the pub for a proper drink," Thomas said, without looking back.

"But that's not the way," Ivy said, puzzled.

"There's a shortcut through the woods," Jimmy told her as his eyes followed Thomas' retreating form.

Jimmy sat for a few moments longer while he peeled the orange and offered a piece to each of the girls. Ivy took hers with delight.

"I'd never eaten an orange before I came to Downton," she said, savouring the segment and remembering her first taste of the fruit that first Christmas she spent at the house.

"Yes," Jimmy said pensively, gazing back at the magnificent façade of the building. "There are many new experiences to be had at Downton."

His gaze lingered on the house, then he got up as casually as he could, "I think I'll join Mr. Barrow for a drink," he said as he sauntered off in the direction of the woods.

Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore had left the shade of the oak tree and were strolling slowly along the edge of the lake when they saw Jimmy disappear into the woods after Thomas.

"I hope that boy knows what he's doing," Mrs. Patmore commented, shaking her head.

"Oh I think he'll be just fine," Mrs. Hughes replied, "Jimmy's big enough to look after himself and believe it or not, Thomas has a good heart underneath that icy exterior."

"It's Thomas I'm talking about," said Mrs. Patmore. "That Jimmy Kent is a right little firecracker, I hope Mr. Barrow knows what he's let himself in for."

They both chuckled as they continued on their walk.

It took a minute for Jimmy's eyes to adjust to the dappled light inside the woods, but he soon made out the silhouette of a man leaning casually against a tree, waiting for him, just as Jimmy knew he would be. He walked slowly, watching Thomas who was silent and unmoving. When Jimmy was within an arm's length, Thomas reached for him, grabbing him by the shoulder, spinning him around and trapping him between the rough bark of the tree trunk and his own warm, smooth body.

"You are an evil tease," Thomas purred, his lips brushing against Jimmy's mouth as he spoke.

"Who… said… I… was… teasing?..." Jimmy punctuated his reply with a soft, fluttering kiss between each word.

Thomas felt him squirm, then the sharp, fresh smell of citrus filled his nostrils. Jimmy was still carrying half the orange and he pulled a segment free now, stroking it teasingly against Thomas' lips. His eyes glued to Thomas' mouth as he watched him bite into it, the juice spilling down his chin.

Keeping his promise, Jimmy licked up the sweet nectar, making Thomas moan. He fed the rest of the orange to Thomas with his mouth, holding each piece between his teeth and letting the under-butler bite away half of it. They shared it like that, one segment at a time, the sweet sticky juice coating their mouths and chins. Jimmy was breathing heavily by the time they'd swallowed the last piece, and more rapidly still when he pressed a finger against Thomas' lips and watched Thomas lick it clean, just as Jimmy had fantasized he would. There was a look of ecstasy on Thomas' face as he closed his eyes, and gently held Jimmy's hand, one finger after another disappearing into his mouth as he slowly sucked them clean.

Jimmy held his breath, his eyes fixed on Thomas' mouth, watching his digits slide between those beautiful lips. He felt Thomas' tongue swirl around his finger, his teeth gently graze his knuckle. From the time Thomas had shoved him against the tree trunk their bodies had been pressed close together, now Thomas began moving, slowly and deliberately. He ground his hips against Jimmy, making the younger man whimper. It was Thomas' turn to tease now. His fingers threaded into Jimmy's hair, clasping his head firmly as his mouth descended for a kiss, his tongue furiously claiming every inch of Jimmy's mouth. It was delicious and very dangerous. But for the shelter of the trees, they were out in the open with the rest of the servants close enough to hear if one of them called out loudly. Anybody could come along at any moment. Jimmy found that thought daring and arousing as much as it was utterly terrifying.

When the kiss ended he licked his lips, desperate for every last taste of Thomas. He sighed as Thomas took two of his fingers into his mouth again. But that peaceful sigh lasted only a moment when he realized that Thomas was no longer cleaning his fingers, but sucking seductively on them, teasing them, playing with them. The way his tongue circled and prodded, the way his cheeks hollowed as he sucked, filled Jimmy's head with luscious thoughts, images of other things that glorious mouth might suck on. His breath caught in his chest and he moaned.

"Oh dear sweet Lord," Jimmy exhaled and took another deep, disbelieving breath.

Thomas' smile was hungry and lustful. Jimmy had got the idea now, he knew what was coming next and Thomas couldn't help but gloat at his victory over the teasing footman. He slowly slid Jimmy's fingers from his mouth, kissing the tip of each one before moving down his body, placing firm, warm kisses along the buttons of his shirt as he sank to his knees.

"Oh God Thomas, you wouldn't, would you? Not out here… not with everybody just…."

He looked down at Thomas gazing back up at him with eyes that said, oh yes, he definitely would. He bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself protesting when Thomas, now settled on his knees, began to undo his trousers, one button at time, slowly, teasingly. Thomas pulled them down, letting them settle mid-thigh, delighting in the unexpected surprise that Jimmy wore no underwear.

"You really are a wicked young thing," Thomas' warm breath ghosted along the shaft of Jimmy's exposed cock, which was filling and hardening without even having been touched yet.

"You know me Mr. Barrow, I always like to be prepared," Jimmy replied, his voice trembling.

A strangled sound fell from Jimmy's lips when Thomas ran his tongue along the side of his erection. Thomas' fingers curled around it and he playfully rubbed the tip of it long his lips, wetting them with the glistening bead of moisture that had already formed there.

Jimmy began to shiver when he saw Thomas' eyes flutter closed as he opened his mouth. Mewling sounds were already coming from him before his cock even touched Thomas' lips. He felt Thomas press a firm hand to his stomach to hold him and ground him in the moment, then he saw Thomas' eyes open and look directly up at him.

"Do not cry out," Thomas warned him as he closed his eyes again and slid the head of Jimmy's cock between his lips.

"_Oh bloody hell!" _Jimmy yelped and then shoved his knuckles into his mouth to keep himself quiet.

The inside of Thomas' mouth felt like a furnace, his tongue felt like a flame lapping at Jimmy's sensitive skin. He had never felt anything like it, never knew such a sensation existed. The heat and suction when Thomas began to move his head back and forth almost undid him. His body shivered as he struggled for control. He shuddered when Thomas' talented tongue teased the very tip of him, flicking little licks at his slit and drawing more fluid from him. He bit into his knuckles when Thomas swirled his tongue around his hard length and ever so gently, with the lightest of touches, grazed his teeth along Jimmy's skin. His hips were bucking, he couldn't help it, he tried to stop himself thrusting into Thomas' mouth but the feeling was just too delicious.

Thomas encouraged him with a soft hum that vibrated around Jimmy's cock and sent a shockwave through him. His hips lurched forward, but instead of Thomas backing away, he moved his head closer, working his throat and swallowing around Jimmy's length until Jimmy felt his cock hit the soft heat at the back of Thomas' throat. It was incredible, Thomas' mouth was every bit as sinful and exquisite as he'd dreamed it would be. He didn't think he'd ever be able to watch Thomas smoke a cigarette now without blushing or getting hard.

Thomas could feel the tiny vibrations and convulsions in Jimmy's body that told him the boy was close. He wanted to be there with him, or as close as he could be. He curled his thumb and forefinger around the base of Jimmy's cock and squeezed gently, staving off his climax for just a little bit longer. With his other hand he worked the buttons of his own fly and extricated the aching erection that had been there ever since he took Jimmy into his mouth and got his first taste of him.

Releasing his grip on the root of Jimmy's shaft, he caressed his stomach and hip with firm, loving strokes of his hand. His other hand worked his own length, spreading the slick wetness he had leaked down over the length of himself, sliding his hand back and forth, revelling in the blissful feeling of it. His mouth increased its efforts, sucking harder, bobbing his head faster, taking Jimmy further and further down his throat. The whimpers coming from above him told him to expect Jimmy' climax as he clamped his lips down harder, increasing the friction and driving Jimmy further into the madness of oblivion.

"Oh God Thomas… Oh God… I'm going to… _Oh Christ!_"

Jimmy's voice was choked, his words stuttering and halting, and his release, when it came, was a long hiss exhaled through clenched teeth. Thomas' mouth received his climax gratefully, swallowing it without question, taking everything the young footman could give him and still longing for more. He relaxed his mouth, his tongue gently lapping, knowing that before long Jimmy's orgasm-sensitive cock would be too tender to touch. The jerk of Jimmy's hips and a soft cry from his mouth told Thomas that moment had come just a few seconds later. He reluctantly let him slide from his mouth and placed a soft, fluttering kiss on the very tip of Jimmy's length, pulling one more tremor from his over-stimulated body.

He rested his head against Jimmy's hip, kissing his hipbone and running his tongue over it, his hand furiously stroking himself to his own quivering climax. It only took three more thrusts into his palm before Thomas released onto the ground between Jimmy's feet with a shuddering, deep, contented sigh.

The cooling breeze on Jimmy's hot, wet skin sent heavenly aftershocks through him, but even the softest gusts of air were almost too much. He doubled over, folding himself over Thomas' body and hugged his shoulders.

"Thank you," he breathed softly against the side of Thomas' face.

The words brought tears to Thomas' eyes. He recalled the first time he had been sucked off. The memory wasn't a good one. He had been sixteen years old and at his first job as a stable boy at the manor house near Chorlton-on-Medlock where he grew up. It had been with the estate's gamekeeper, a big strapping bull of a man, not necessarily into boys but happy enough to use them when women were in short supply. Thomas had had a crush on him, and thought all his dreams had come true when one night, slightly drunk, the man had returned from the pub and shoved Thomas up against the stable wall and yanked his trousers down. The pleasure had been intense, too wonderful for his body to control. He had trust into the man's mouth with abandon, unable to help himself. He had ended up with a black eye from the punch he'd got from making the man gag and coming in his mouth without warning.

Now, here in the woods on Downton's vast estate, with Jimmy still curled over him, Thomas was thrilled that he had been able to make the experience for Jimmy a good one. Whatever happened in the future, Jimmy would look back on this day and recall the pleasant memory of it.

Rising slowly to his feet, he helped Jimmy to straighten and took the handkerchief from his pocket to clean them up. Jimmy watched him closely as he did it, marvelling at the tender, loving way Thomas handled him as he tucked him back into his trousers and buttoned them up again.

"What are you thinking about?" Jimmy asked as he helped Thomas get back into this own clothes and brush the creases out of them.

"That I wish this house was mine so that we wouldn't have to hide in the woods to take our pleasure," Thomas replied, telling Jimmy the fantasy that he'd had so often over past few days. "I'd lay you out on the front lawn wearing nothing but your beautiful smile and the sunshine on your skin, then I'd take you and make you mine. I'd make love to you and to hell with anybody who wanted to watch."

Jimmy laughed. "I'd love that," he said softly. "Not the being watched part, but the being made love to bit. I want that Thomas, I want everything."

Thomas pulled him close in a tight hug, pressing his mouth into Jimmy's hair and kissing his head lovingly.

"Tonight," he whispered his promise into Jimmy's ear. "I'll make you mine tonight."

"Yes," Jimmy answered, his mouth curving into a shy smile and his eyes shining with trust.

"Now how about that drink?" Thomas reluctantly released him from the embrace.

"I think I need it," Jimmy said as they began to walk, soon stepping out of the protective cover of the trees and onto the narrow lane that led to the village.

To be continued….


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Sitting in the Grantham Arms, they looked like two men just having a drink and a chat. A few locals recognised them as staff from the 'big house' but few spoke to them other than to nod in greeting. One of the tenant farmers came over and expressed his condolences at Matthew's death, asking that they convey his sentiments to His Lordship and Lady Mary. The woman from the post office lingered for a moment to say that she'd thought the funeral service had been touching and dignified, and to please tell Mr. Carson that she would send her boy up to the house in the morning with a bag of letters and condolence cards that had arrived for Lady Mary. Thomas agreed with a nod, but doubted he'd remember to seek out the old butler once he got Jimmy home for the night.

"One more?" Jimmy asked as he tipped the remainder of his drink into his mouth. They had spent the last few hours talking and having a few pints, happy to be in each other's pleasant company.

"No, that's enough," Thomas replied. "I want you tipsy enough to be relaxed, but not so drunk that you won't remember it in the morning."

He took a deep draw on his cigarette and dropped it into the bottom of his glass where it hissed and fizzed and finally went out in the dregs of his drink.

"Time for bed," he winked at Jimmy as he exhaled a long trail of smoke.

Walking back along the track to the house, they passed the woods where Thomas had taken Jimmy in his mouth that afternoon. He heard the small murmur that escaped from Jimmy's lips as he remembered it too and he leaned in, his mouth close to Jimmy's ear.

"It's going to get a lot better than that," Thomas whispered.

"We'd better hurry then," Jimmy grinned, jostling Thomas up the path towards the great house.

0o0

Jimmy went straight up to his room, but Thomas was stopped in the corridor by Mr. Carson who said he wanted to have a word. By the time Thomas came up, Jimmy had bathed and brushed his teeth, and spent the best part of half an hour nervously pacing the floor of his room before he quietly knocked on the under-butler's door.

The door was opened by Thomas fresh from his own bath, a towel wrapped around his waist and droplets of moisture still clinging to his chest. The toothbrush in his mouth prevented him from speaking, but his eyes conveyed the smile that his lips could not. He pulled Jimmy into the room and closed the door behind him before disappearing back into the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.

"What did Carson want?" Jimmy asked when Thomas came back into the room.

"Nothing much, just wanted to discuss the arrangements for the next couple of weeks. His Lordship wants the house as quiet as possible, Lady Mary is not to be disturbed and no guests are to be admitted without first speaking to Carson or the Earl. They want to give Lady Mary as much peace and quiet as she needs to grieve. And there's a new nanny coming next week apparently."

"Do you think this house is cursed?" Jimmy asked suddenly, "There's so much tragedy here, Little Sybie lost her mother the night she was born and now Baby George has lost his father too."

Thomas shook his head. "No," he said. "There are wonderful things that happen in this house too."

He pulled Jimmy to him and kissed his shoulder, working his way up his neck and along his jaw until their mouths finally met. He felt Jimmy's hands slide down his sides to his waist where they worked the towel free and dropped it on the floor. Thomas pushed his hands down the back of Jimmy's pyjamas, cupping the firm flesh of his behind and squeezing it with groping fingers. There was a subtle shift in Jimmy's posture as his body suddenly tensed. Thomas pulled back and looked at him.

"Will it hurt?" Jimmy asked.

"Not if we're careful," Thomas said softly, "But it's alright if you've changed your mind. We don't have to do anything at all, just tell me what you'd rather do instead."

"I do want it," Jimmy replied, feeling suddenly foolish and shy. "I've never done this before, I'm just a bit nervous that's all."

Thomas reached for Jimmy's hand and lifted it to his mouth, gently starting to suck on his fingers. He wanted to take him back to that afternoon in the woods, to make him remember the blissful pleasure they had shared, the promise of more exquisite sensations to come.

"Come and lie down," Thomas said when he felt the tension in Jimmy's body start to dissipate. He gently led him to the bed and pulled the covers back.

Jimmy lay down and let Thomas take his pyjama bottoms off. He swallowed hard, still not sure that his body would be able to accept Thomas' cock no matter how much he wanted it. Over the past week, since the first night their hands had brought each other to climax, he had lain in bed dreaming of this, of finally giving himself completely to Thomas. He had pleasured himself to the thought of it and reached down to insert his finger into himself to test how it might feel. But he'd never been able to get it in further than the first joint before it became too uncomfortable. His finger was small, Thomas' cock was bigger, a lot bigger.

But it wasn't just the possibility of pain that he shied away from. Jimmy was out of his depth here, stepping into territory he had never entered before. The calm self-assurance he usually exuded was missing. This was a new feeling for Jimmy. He was used to being the worldly wise one, the one confidently teaching Ivy the foxtrot while bumbling Alfred watched with envy, and got hopelessly lost trying to copy the steps. Jimmy wasn't sure he liked what it felt like to be one of the inept Alfreds of this world.

His thoughts, scattering in all directions were suddenly pulled back together when Thomas traced a finger down his throat, and gently stroked the hollow at the base of his neck. He turned his head and looked into Thomas' serene grey eyes, saw the tender smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

"We'll go slowly, alright?" Thomas said.

Jimmy nodded. "Tell me what to do."

"You can start by kissing me," Thomas whispered, his hand sliding up Jimmy's neck to cup his face and pull him closer.

They kissed for a long time, slowly and gently, then with more passion. Jimmy relaxed when he realized Thomas wasn't going to do anything startling or sudden. He let Jimmy set the pace. Only when Jimmy responded and seemed to need more, did Thomas give it to him. It wasn't long before Jimmy was shedding his inhibitions and the lusty boldness of the afternoon was returning to him. Thomas was making him feel good, and the better he felt, the less he worried about what was to come.

"You look absolutely gorgeous when you're aroused," Thomas purred, his hand dipping back down Jimmy's throat and his fingertips fluttering over his chest to find a nipple, which he caressed in slow circles.

"That feels nice," Jimmy sighed as Thomas' fingertip continued its teasing of one nipple while his mouth found the other, his tongue slowly lapping at it.

Thomas was thorough in his exploration of Jimmy's body, paying careful attention to the places that elicited a gasp or sigh of pleasure, and lingering there longer. His own cock was already hard and he smiled with delight when he felt Jimmy's shaft start to fill and lengthen against his thigh. He moved his leg slowly, rubbing against it gently. Jimmy murmured with desire and turned on his side to face Thomas, his arms sliding around him to hold him close.

"Ready for more?" Thomas asked as he kissed Jimmy deeply again.

"Yes," Jimmy nodded. His body was tingling, his skin wonderfully sensitive to Thomas' touch. The growing ache in his cock felt delicious.

"Let me sit up for a moment then,"

Thomas reached over to the bedside table and picked up a small hand towel and a little glass jar. When he opened the jar, Jimmy caught a pleasantly floral scent.

"What's that?" he asked.

"This is the magic that makes it all feel wonderful," Thomas said with a wink as he scooped up some of the thick, opaque substance.

He started to massage it slowly into Jimmy's cock, drawing small cries of pleasure from him. The heat of Thomas' fingers and Jimmy's skin made it melt, becoming slippery and slick. Thomas coated his own cock then wiped his hand on the towel and lowered himself on top of Jimmy.

"We'll just do this for now, nothing more. Relax and enjoy it," he whispered against Jimmy's lips as he pressed his pelvis into Jimmy's and began to slide slowly against him.

Their slick cocks, trapped between them, slipped gloriously against each other. Thomas' movements were slow and deliberate. It was blissful. Soon, Jimmy was lifting his hips, moving his body, trying to create more friction and adding to the incredible sensation. All the while they kissed and their hands explored everywhere they could reach. And then Thomas was rolling them, twisting them until he was underneath and Jimmy was on top. He reached down, pulling the footman's legs apart so that Jimmy was straddling him, his legs folded on either side of Thomas' body. Thomas guided his hips, starting a steady rhythm of sliding and rocking that Jimmy continued. This new position spread his legs, opening him and he purred with unexpected longing as Thomas' fingers slid down his back and dipped into his cleft to caress his hidden entrance softly.

"Is that alright?" Thomas asked.

"Mmmm," Jimmy replied.

He found himself wiggling against Thomas' finger and sighing happily when he felt the tip of it start to press more firmly against his opening. It felt much better than he thought it would, and so did the sensations building through him as he kept sliding their cocks together and kissing the side of Thomas' neck. Vaguely he became aware that Thomas' hand had moved away from its intimate place between his cheeks. When it returned, it dabbed a blob of the thick, fragrant substance against his puckered hole and started rubbing it in slowly. His heated skin melted it quickly. The pressure of Thomas' finger was there again, this time more insistent, more demanding. Jimmy caught his breath when it slipped inside him. The sensation was unusual but pleasurable, he willed his body to relax as Thomas pushed his fingertip in a little further.

Now he understood why he hadn't enjoyed it when he'd tried to do this to himself. He had inserted his finger dry without anything to ease its way. This was different, this felt good and he wriggled his body back, encouraging Thomas to give him more. But Thomas was focusing on other things, his hips were bucking up against Jimmy, rubbing their bodies harder together. It pulled Jimmy's mind from what was happening inside him and focused his attention on his cock. He started moving faster, rubbing harder, pushing his body back and forth along Thomas' abdomen. He didn't know it, but Thomas had cleverly tricked him into doing all the work, every time he pushed back, he impaled himself further on Thomas' fingers.

All of a sudden Jimmy gasped. He felt a stinging pain like a quick, burning sensation as Thomas moved his fingers. He exhaled through the discomfort and then smiled shyly at Thomas.

"It's okay, you can push your finger in a bit more now, I think I can manage to take it."

"Push it in a bit more?" Thomas grinned, unable to help the small chuckle that accompanied his words. "You've already got _two_ fingers in there. All the way in, and you're opening nicely."

Jimmy's eyes widened in disbelief, and to prove it to him, Thomas pulled them carefully out until just the tips of his digits were clamped inside Jimmy's tightly clasping ring of muscle, then he pushed them slowly back in again, and continued to scissor them as he had just done, opening and stretching Jimmy further.

"Turn over, it'll be easier if you're on your back," Thomas said, and they managed to turn themselves around until Jimmy was on his back, knees raised and legs opened, and Thomas was sitting between them, without his fingers ever leaving Jimmy's body.

With better access now, Thomas moved his fingers faster, scissoring and twisting, thrilled to hear Jimmy's breath coming faster and deeper. With a carefully curling index finger he felt along Jimmy's inner wall until he found the changing texture of the spot he was looking for. He swept his fingertip over it and pressed very gently.

Jimmy's head and shoulders lifted right off the bed, his eyes wide and his mouth open in surprise.

"Oh!" he yelped. "What was _that_?"

"That," Thomas told him, "Is what it's going to feel like when I'm inside you."

"Crikey, I think my head might explode."

"I'll be disappointed if it doesn't," Thomas grinned, his expression looking like he would devour Jimmy whole.

He raised himself up on his knees, pulling Jimmy's hips closer and pushing his legs upwards and further apart. He had to close his eyes for a moment, the sight of the lovely blond boy, naked, spread and ready for him was too much to take in, his cock twitched and threatened to undo him before he even got it inside.

That first push through tight, resisting muscle was heaven. He heard Jimmy hiss, but the way his hips moved, bearing down on Thomas' cock told him it was more a hiss of pleasure than discomfort. He watched Jimmy's face closely and told him to breathe deeply and slowly as he eased himself all the way in.

"How is it?" he asked, but Jimmy's face had already told him the answer.

"It's good. I feel… full and… stretched, but I like it,"

Thomas kissed him as they began to rock gently together, just a slow pelvic tilt at first to give Jimmy time to get used to it. Then Thomas angled his hips more deeply, and began thrusting slowly, pulling out and pushing in further with each stroke.

"Tell me when you feel it," he purred, his hands running over Jimmy's chest, teasing the sensitive areas he'd found earlier.

Jimmy moved, lifted his hips, rolled them to meet Thomas' thrusts, his heart pounding faster as he suddenly felt Thomas hit the spot.

"There," he gasped. "Right there,"

Nothing had ever felt this good before and he couldn't imagine that anything else ever would. His body was responding in ways that he had never imagined possible. He felt like his entire being and everything in the world around him was nothing but pure sensation and pleasure. They floated together, alone in the universe, safe in the little bubble of love and desire that Thomas had created. And that's when he felt it happen, something in his heart opened and Thomas's soul flooded into it. In that moment, Jimmy knew he had fallen in love.

His body was gliding on the crest of ecstasy, the pain he had feared was drowned by the explosive joy he felt every time Thomas' cock scraped across that wonderful bundle of nerves inside him. The aching burn of the stretch as Thomas pounded him harder and faster, only added to his pleasure. His hands groped at Thomas, touching him everywhere that his arms could reach. They clung to each other, moving in unison, moaning each other's names. Then Jimmy felt Thomas reach for his hand and lace their fingers together. He brought their joined hands to Jimmy's cock and began to stoke him. The feeling of their fingers working together on his shaft was fantastic. Thomas lifted up, giving them more room between their bodies to stroke and pump Jimmy's erection.

"Oh God Thomas, it's too much, I'm going to…"

"Let it happen Jimmy," Thomas growled against his shoulder, teeth gently nipping his skin. "Let go for me, let me see how good you feel."

His back arched, he whimpered and spilled himself over their joined hands, ribbons of seed pulsing from him as he gasped for breath.

"That's it, that's beautiful," Thomas purred as he felt the sticky warmth of Jimmy's climax seeping between his fingers.

The clenching heat of Jimmy's walls clamped around his cock, convulsing, grasping him and releasing as Jimmy's body relaxed before the next spasm hit him. The aftershocks came fast and violent, Jimmy shuddered through them, pulling Thomas to his own trembling orgasm.

He released deep inside Jimmy's body, claiming him, leaving the intimate essence of himself inside him. Shivering, and panting heavily, Thomas collapsed onto the blond's chest and found himself immediately wrapped in tight, loving arms.

Jimmy wanted to speak but there were no words for what he had just experienced. He felt like he had come home, like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, where he wanted to be for the rest of his life, in Thomas' arms, and his bed.

Thomas started to lift up, but Jimmy held him tighter. "Stay there, I like the weight of you on top of me, I like how you feel still lodged inside me."

He lay there while his breathing slowed and steadied, his cock softened and slipped out of Jimmy's body. Then he rolled over and they lay side by side, Jimmy reaching for Thomas' hand and holding it.

"Alright?" Thomas asked.

"More than alright," Jimmy replied with a contented sigh.

They snuggled together sharing kisses and quiet words, until Thomas reluctantly pulled them both up from the bed and led them to the bathroom. He wiped himself down with a warm, damp cloth then helped Jimmy to clean up.

When they got back to the bed Jimmy was half asleep before Thomas even tucked the blanket around them. He felt exhausted and boneless, more sated and contented than he had ever been before. As much as Thomas loved to lie and watch him sleep, he couldn't keep his eyes open either, and soon joined Jimmy in a deep, dreamless slumber.

0o0

It was still dark and the air had a chill in it when Jimmy felt himself being shaken awake. He gave a protesting grunt and pulled the blanket back over his head.

"Come on sleepyhead, time to get up," Thomas said softly, pulling the blanket back.

"Can't be, it's pitch dark," Jimmy grumbled. "What's the time?"

"Just gone half past four,"

"Bugger off then, I don't have to get up for another half an hour."

"Not today Sunshine," Thomas told him, pulling him up from the bed. "You're going to have a nice long soak in the bath, then you're going to go back to your room before everyone else wakes up."

The tub was already half full when Thomas pushed him into the bathroom.

"I'd really rather sleep," he moaned and tried to twist out of Thomas' grasp.

"You need this more," Thomas insisted. "Trust me, the hot water will do you good, you'll be feeling it for the rest of the day if you don't."

The fact that he was more than a little tender down there hadn't gone unnoticed to Jimmy, even in his sleepy state, and when he sat down on the edge of the tub, he winced in discomfort. Not that he minded the pain really, it reminded him of the wonderful night before, it was a physical souvenir that told him Thomas belonged to him, and he belonged to Thomas. He watched as the man he now called his lover, opened the small cabinet and picked up a bottle of white liquid and a bar of soap wrapped in delicate tissue paper and tied with a ribbon.

"From my cousin in Bombay," Thomas said in answer to Jimmy's curious look. "He sent them to me at Christmas."

The bath milk filled the room with a heady fragrance as he poured it into the hot water. The soap gave off the same exotic scent when he unwrapped it. Jimmy sighed happily as he sank his body into the perfumed water. The smell was intoxicating, a mysterious mixture of aromatic spiciness and calm, soothing florals. It was strong and every bit as captivating as Jimmy imagined the far flung lands of the Orient to be. He had never smelled anything like it, certainly not in England.

He slid forward enough to let Thomas climb into the tub behind him, then lay back against his chest and relaxed. The sweet-smelling oils in the water soothed him and he felt the sensitive ache between his cheeks begin to ease. They languished in the water as long as they could before Thomas picked up the soap and began to lovingly wash Jimmy, then himself. He dried Jimmy's body, stopping often to kiss him and touch him, trying to drink in as much of him as he could before he had to relinquish him for the day and keep a physical distance between them.

Jimmy was back in his own room before the first of the hall boys began to stir. He dressed quickly and smiled every time he caught a reflection of himself in the mirror, trying to decide if he looked as different as he felt.

The servants were just finishing their breakfast when the first of the upstairs bells began to ring. The lady's-maids disappeared up the stairs with breakfast trays, and the footmen went into the kitchen to pick up the platters that needed to be taken up to the dining room. Alfred manoeuvred through the doorway and around the corner with a tray of kippers and eggs. Jimmy followed closely behind him, carrying a silver tray laden with a delicate, fine china tea set. They met Mrs. Hughes in the corridor coming in the opposite direction. She greeted them warmly and stepped aside to let them pass.

As Jimmy drew near, the air around him carried an exotic fragrance of jasmine, sandalwood and cinnamon. It was a delicious, heady aroma, quite unlike anything Mrs. Hughes had ever smelled before.

"You smell lovely today James," she smiled at him. "Are you wearing a new cologne?"

The young footman shook his head. "No, it's bath-milk and soap from India, a gift from T…"

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he realized what he'd said. So few words had given away far too much. His hands began to tremble, the tray with its precious cargo of delicate china began to rattle and shake violently.

Mrs. Hughes stared in alarm, dreading the moment it would all come crashing to the floor, but before the thought had finished forming in her head, Thomas appeared from nowhere, swiftly lifted the tray from Jimmy's hands and kept calmly walking with it, following Alfred up the staircase as if nothing was amiss.

"His Lordship's shoes need shining," was the only thing he said as he turned his head to look back at Jimmy.

The young footman, grateful for the excuse to escape, turned quickly and headed for the boot room.

The scent of the air in Thomas' wake as he passed Mrs. Hughes was identical to the deliciously striking fragrance that enveloped Jimmy. The penny dropped, the pieces fell into place and Mrs. Hughes smiled as it all suddenly made sense.

"James," she called down the corridor after him.

When Jimmy turned to face her, his cheeks were flushed with a bright red blush.

"I'm so very happy for you Jimmy," she said with a soft, gentle smile as her eyes drifted back to the empty staircase that Thomas had just disappeared up. "I'm so happy for both of you. This house has seen too much tragedy of late; it's time that it saw real happiness and love again."

She didn't know what the future held for them, or where their lives would lead them, but she knew that as long as they remained at Downton, they would be safe and protected from an unkind and prejudiced world. They would live in peace and happiness, able to love and cherish each other far away from the prying eyes of the world.

If nothing else, she decided, she would make sure of it.

THE END.


End file.
